Playing from Memory
by elvenjade22
Summary: Luke/Rey Orchestra AU. Rey, a violinist, joins a community orchestra to try to come to terms with the reason she stopped playing five years ago. The conductor, Luke Skywalker, senses her talent and does his best to encourage her, but as the two grow closer the struggles from his own past start to resurface.
1. Chapter 1

Rey stood in front of the large wooden double-doors, clutching the handle of her violin case as if her life depended on it. She could already feel her palms starting to sweat.

 _It's just a community orchestra, for heaven's sake_ , she told herself firmly. _You didn't even have to audition. And no one here will know who you are, anyway, so…_

She took a deep breath and pushed open the door. The familiar sounds washed over her immediately, bringing back a wave of nostalgia—the light chatter, the discordant hum and murmur of various instruments being tuned, musicians warming up their fingers with scales and arpeggios. She thought she even caught the faint scent of rosin dust in the air.

The floorboards creaked under her feet as Rey made her way slowly over toward the violin section. She had hoped that the conductor would be there already, but it didn't look like he'd arrived yet. She'd never met him in person, but he had seemed friendly enough in the emails they had exchanged the week before, even insisting she call him "Luke" instead of "Maestro Skywalker" as she'd initially addressed him.

None of the other violinists paid much attention to her, too absorbed in their own conversations and warm-ups to notice a new face. She was half-considering abandoning the whole idea and sprinting for the door when she heard a gentle voice behind her.

"Rey?"

She turned around. The man behind her was only a few inches taller than she was, with gray-streaked blonde hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and what Rey could only describe as startlingly blue eyes. He smiled brightly, tucking a stack of scores under his arm so he could reach out to shake her hand.

"I'm Luke," he said. "Welcome to the group—it's great to finally meet you in person."

Rey mumbled a quick "thank you" as he let go of her hand, hoping he hadn't noticed how damp her palms were.

"Why don't you take a seat with Jessika over there in the 2nd violins for tonight?" said Luke. "I'll listen to you play after rehearsal and we can figure out the best place for you then."

Rey's stomach flipped. "I...listen to me play? I didn't think I had to audition for this."

"Oh, you don't—you're definitely in the orchestra, no need to worry about that. I just like to get a sense of which section you might be most comfortable in so I can arrange the seating to play to everyone's strengths. I'm sorry if I forgot to mention it in my email. You're welcome to wait until next week if you don't have anything prepared."  
"No, that's okay," said Rey. "Honestly, I'd rather get it over with."

Luke smiled again, his eyes sparkling. "Fair enough," he said. "Come see me right after rehearsal and we'll get it taken care of."

He turned and headed up toward the front of the room, and Rey found the seat he had directed her to. A dark-haired woman close to Rey's own age sat in the chair next to it, rummaging through a folder of music.

"Jessika?" Rey asked.

The woman looked up. "Hmm?"

"I'm Rey," she said, sitting down a little hesitantly. "It looks like I'm your temporary stand partner for tonight. Luke asked me to sit here until he decides on a permanent spot for me."

Jessika's face lit up. "Great!" she said. "Rose is home sick with the flu tonight and I _hate_ playing at a stand by myself. Have you been in an orchestra like this before?"

"It's...been a while," said Rey. "I hope I'm not too rusty."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," said Jessika. "I hadn't played since high school when I first joined, and I still managed okay." She lowered her voice and leaned in closer. "So...what do you think of him?"

"What do I think of who?"

"Luke. _Gorgeous_ , right? He never talks about his personal life, but Rose and I have a bet going—she thinks he's happily married with three kids and a dog, but I'm convinced music is the only thing he really loves. No wedding ring, see?"

Rey merely nodded, slightly embarrassed to admit she had already noticed.

"He's an absolute genius—you know he used to conduct the Chicago Symphony, like, twenty years ago? He was their youngest conductor _ever_. You don't manage that kind of success without complete commitment to your work."

" _The Chicago Symphony?_ " said Rey. "What is he doing directing a community orchestra with a background like that?"

"No one knows. Personally I think it just makes him all the more attractive—mysterious, you know? I'd give anything to—"

Rey never found out just what Jessika would give anything to do, because at that moment Luke called out for their attention to begin the rehearsal. She pulled her case onto her lap and opened it, running her fingers gently over the smooth wood and strings of her violin. It had been so long...would she still remember _anything_?

She stumbled through sightreading the first piece, a Beethoven overture, her fingers stiff and sluggish. Halfway through the Mahler symphony, she started to catch more of the notes, and though her arms and wrists ached, she was finally beginning to feel comfortable when Luke brought the rehearsal to a close an hour and a half later.

Rey said goodbye to Jessika, then walked up to the front of the room to wait for Luke, who was checking a passage in the score with the oboe player. She tried her best not to stare, but after talking with Jessika it was hard not to notice just _how_ attractive Luke really was. She guessed he was in his early fifties, but he was clearly in good shape, and the hint of gray in his hair suited him. But even more than that, there was an overwhelming kindness in his eyes and smile that Rey found beautiful. For a brief moment, she felt strangely jealous of the oboe player, the way he talked and laughed with Luke like an old friend as they looked over the score together.

But the feeling passed quickly, and soon the oboe player walked away, leaving Rey alone in front of Luke. He looked up at her with a smile.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Do you want an honest answer?" said Rey.

"Always," he said seriously.

"Then no, I'm not. But let's do it anyway."

He laughed. "An honest answer if ever there was one. Let's go to my office—that way you won't have to worry about anyone else overhearing. Sound okay?"

Rey nodded and followed him out of the room and down the hallway. He stopped in front of a narrow door at the end of the hall and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket.

"Don't be too impressed," he said. "The community center isn't set up to have much in the way of office space, so this is little more than a glorified broom closet." He pushed the door open and shoved aside a crate of sheet music with his foot. "At least it gives me a place to keep scores so they don't clutter up my apartment. Please, come in."

He held the door open for her as she slipped past him into the office. It _was_ small, but in a comfortable sort of way. He had a desk tucked into one corner, and an oversized chair and lamp on the opposite wall. The remaining wall space was crowded with bookshelves and file cabinets, all filled to the brim with sheet music and books. She scanned the titles of the books on the shelf nearest her—they were mostly biographies of famous composers. A few shelves down was a row of books on music theory and conducting.

"Have you actually read all of these?" she asked.

"Most of them, yes," said Luke. "Some more than once. Does that make it sound like I don't have much of a life, or what?"

Rey laughed. "A little," she said. "But I understand. Most of my apartment is full of books, too."

"We'll have to compare reading tastes sometime," he said. "Feel free to just set your case anywhere. Do you need a music stand?"

"No, I don't have the music with me. We'll see how much of this I can still do from memory—it's been a few years."

"Take your time," he said. "And remember, no pressure whatsoever—I'm just a casual listener. Close your eyes if you like. Pretend I'm not even here."

Rey pulled her violin out of the case and settled it on her shoulder, the weight and shape of it already feeling familiar again. It was almost as if she'd never stopped playing. As if the last five years had meant nothing.

She brought her hand up to touch the strings, trying to slow her racing thoughts. Thinking wasn't going to help her now. The music was in her fingers, not her mind. Setting her bow to the string, she took a deep breath and started to play.

It was all still there—every note, every shift, every emotion slid from her fingertips as if she had practiced it only yesterday. It wasn't perfect, but even with the occasional stumble she managed to lose herself in the music to the point that it was almost a surprise when she came to the end of the movement. The silence that met her as she released the final note was unnerving. She didn't want to open her eyes.

" _Rey_...that was…"

She looked up and found Luke staring at her, eyes wide. He sat back in his chair and shook his head, seemingly at a loss for words.

"That was... _incredible._ "

Rey felt her cheeks grow warm, and there was an uncomfortable twinge in the pit of her stomach.

"The Barber concerto has always been one of my favorites," said Luke, "but I've never heard it played quite like that before. Rey...our concertmaster moved to California last season, and I've been looking for someone to replace him. Would you be willing to…?"

"I can't," said Rey quickly. "I mean...I don't think I can handle that responsibility right now. I'm sorry."

"That's all right, I understand. Would you consider 2nd chair? I could really use someone with your skill to help lead the section."

"I...I don't know. Could I think about it?"

"Of course, please do," he said. "Just send me an email when you've made your decision."

"I will."

"And Rey...if you change your mind about the concertmistress position, the offer still stands. I'd be honored to have you."


	2. Chapter 2

Rey sat in front of her laptop, trying to work up the courage to hit "send" on the email she'd just composed. It really shouldn't be that hard—she'd made the decision almost as soon as Luke had brought it up—but actually committing to it was proving difficult. She read through the text of the email one more time:

 _Luke,_

 _Thank you again for your kindness on Tuesday night. I'm not always the best with new situations, but you made me feel very welcome, and I appreciate that._

 _I've given your suggestion some thought, and I would like to accept the 2nd chair position as offered._

 _See you Tuesday,_

 _Rey_

She moved the cursor over the "send" button, closed her eyes, and after a few seconds of trying to remember how to breathe, it was done. She was committed.

She'd hardly had time to recover when he responded five minutes later:

 _Rey—_

 _Wonderful! It was truly a pleasure listening to you play, and I look forward to having you in the orchestra. I'll have music for you at the next rehearsal._

 _Have a great weekend,_

 _Luke_

* * *

The weekend flew by for Rey. Between extra shifts at the coffee shop where she worked and her anticipation (she wasn't sure if it was excitement or dread) of the next rehearsal, the days seemed to pass more quickly than they had in some time. Before she knew it, it was Tuesday night again, and she found herself outside those same wooden double doors, violin case in hand.

This time she didn't hesitate. She opened the door and stepped inside, doing her best to seem confident despite the nervousness still flitting around inside her. Luke hadn't arrived yet, but Jessika saw her from across the room and waved her over.

"Hey, welcome back!" she said as Rey reached her. "This is Rose, my stand partner. Rose, this is Rey."

The woman sitting beside Jessika smiled shyly and nodded to Rey.

"Do you know where you'll be sitting yet?" asked Jessika.

"Luke wants me in the firsts. 2nd chair."

Jessika's eyes went wide. "Wow, nice!"

"Well...mostly nice," said Rose quietly. "That means you'll be sharing a stand with—"

"Oh, right." Jessika's face fell. "Ben is still 1st chair."

"Ben?" Rey glanced over her shoulder at the 1st chair, but it was empty. "Who's Ben?"

"Ben Solo," said Jessika. "He's actually Luke's nephew, but you'd never know it. They're _nothing_ alike. Ben's a great violinist, but…"

"...But not an especially pleasant person," finished Rose. "He and Luke don't get along very well."

 _No wonder Luke wanted me to be concertmistress._ "Thanks for the warning," she said. "I'll let you know how it goes."

They both wished her luck, but as she walked over to her new seat their comments about Ben hung like dark clouds over her thoughts. As if she wasn't nervous enough already…

Rey watched the door as the minutes ticked by, but neither Luke nor Ben had yet made an appearance. Finally, a few minutes before 7:00, a tall man with sleek black hair pushed open the door and made his way briskly across the room toward her. She opened her mouth to say hello as he sat down, then decided against it—he didn't seem to be paying any attention to her, and judging by the half-scowl on his face she thought it might be best to keep it that way.

It didn't last, though. He had just started getting his instrument out of its case when he glanced over at her and froze.

"You're new," he said.

"Yeah, I'm...I just joined last week," she said. "I'm Rey Kenobi."

"Ben."

He turned his attention back to his instrument, but after a moment he paused.

"Kenobi…" he said. "Are you—"

She was spared the rest of his question when Luke came up behind her.

"Settling in?" he asked, giving her a gentle squeeze on the shoulder.

She nodded, and he gave her a quick wink before stepping up onto the podium.

"Evening, ladies and gentlemen," he said as the room quieted. "Let's tune, shall we?"

Ben stood up to take the tuning note from the oboe, then passed it on to the rest of the orchestra. When he sat down again Rey could almost _feel_ him staring at her.

"Don't get any ideas about taking my place," he whispered sharply. "I don't care who you're related to. I've _earned_ this."

Something about the way he said it made Rey shudder. She looked up at Luke, but he didn't seem to have noticed the exchange.

"We'll begin with the Mahler tonight," said Luke. "2nd movement. Let's pick it up at measure 43 to start…"

Rey tried her best to focus on the music, but she found herself constantly distracted by Ben's playing. He _was_ good—great, in fact—but there was a ferocity to his style that bordered on violence. Even in the more delicate parts of the piece the only emotion she could sense from him was _anger_. Was he always like this? Or was he just upset because he thought she was trying to take over his position?

The moment rehearsal ended, Ben put his violin away and left without another word, much to Rey's relief. She was just finishing packing up, herself, when Luke sat down beside her in Ben's chair.

"How'd it go?" he asked brightly.

Rey grimaced. "All right, I guess," she said. "Pretty sure I didn't make any friends here, though."

"Ah." Luke's expression darkened. "Ben?"

She nodded.

"I suppose I should have warned you. Don't take anything he says or does too personally. There were no other violinists here even close to his skill level until you came, which is why I still have him in the concertmaster position, but he really doesn't have the temperment for it. I don't want to make any excuses for him, but he had a bit of a rough family life growing up. In the interest of full disclosure, he's actually my nephew."

"Jessika mentioned that, yes."

"Anyway, if you're not comfortable with this seat I'll understand. I mean, I'd like it if you would stay, but I don't want to—"

"I'll stick it out for now," said Rey. "I should at least give it a few weeks."

"Good," said Luke with a smile. "I'll let you get going. There is actually one other thing I'd like to discuss with you, but it's a bit too involved to get into right now—would you be open to meeting me for lunch sometime this weekend? All perfectly respectable, of course."

"I—of course," said Rey, trying not to show her surprise. "Sure. That would be fine."

"Saturday at 1:00 okay?"

"I have to work Saturday—could we do Sunday instead? Same time?"

"Perfect," said Luke. "There's a great little place not too far from here. I'll email you the address."

"Sounds great. I'll see you then."

"See you then."

Luke left, and Rey finished getting her things together, her thoughts racing.

 _It's not a date_ , she told herself. _It's lunch. Lunch to discuss something. Like a business lunch, or a meeting_ — _that's it, it's basically a business meeting. Nothing to freak out about_.

But if that was true, then why was her heart still pounding?


	3. Chapter 3

Luke arrived early at the restaurant on Sunday, both to make sure he was there when Rey came in and to take the time to gather his thoughts before meeting with her. The Orchid was a tiny, eclectic, multi-ethnic fusion sort of place that on many levels shouldn't have worked—but it did. It was also only a block from his apartment, so he tended to eat there once or twice a week when he didn't feel like cooking.

Luke took a drink of his tea and read over the flyer he'd brought with him. He hoped he wasn't being too forward by bringing this up so soon after meeting her, but he couldn't ignore Rey's talent. She was special, that much he knew. Special, but...broken. There was a pain in her eyes that he didn't yet understand, but he wanted to. The more he learned about her, the more he wanted to learn, and after only two weeks of knowing her he found himself looking forward to Tuesday night rehearsals more than he had in years.

The bell above the door jingled, and he looked up to see Rey come inside, hair windblown and cheeks flushed pink from the cold. She smiled when she saw him.

"I had you pegged as more of a coffee person," she said, nodding toward the mug of tea in his hands.

"Truthfully, I'm both," said Luke, "but winter always seems to bring out my tea-loving side."

Rey shrugged off her coat and slid into the booth across from him. "Do you have a hot chocolate side?" she asked. "Because that's what I'm craving right now."

Luke laughed and waved the waitress over so Rey could order. A few minutes later she returned with Rey's drink and a lunch menu for each of them. Rey took a sip and sighed contentedly.

"So," she said, "what was it you wanted to talk about?"

"Mm, not yet," said Luke, swallowing a mouthful of tea. "I'm a firm believer in never having a serious conversation on an empty stomach."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Serious conversation? Now you're making me nervous."

"Don't worry, it's really not that serious. But I _am_ hungry."

He scanned the menu, though he wouldn't have needed to—he had most of it memorized anyway.

"What do you recommend?" Rey asked, looking over her own menu.

"Hmm...well, the curry's delicious…"

She made a face. "With hot chocolate?"

"I don't know," he said. "It _could_ work. Though somehow I doubt anything on this menu is specifically designed to go with hot chocolate."

"They really ought to change that. I guess I'll just have to finish it before the food comes, then."

They both ordered (Rey opting for the curry at Luke's suggestion) and settled back to wait for their food. Luke considered pulling out the flyer, but decided against it—putting it off for a few more minutes wouldn't hurt, and he was hoping to get a better feel for what her reaction might be before bringing it up.

"So, can I safely assume that completely non-serious small talk is acceptable without a meal in front of us?" said Rey.

"Oh, absolutely," said Luke. "Highly encouraged, in fact."

"Well, in that case…" She tapped one finger against her lips thoughtfully. "Favorite composer—go."

"Hey now!" Luke protested. "If there's one question you never ask a conductor…"

"C'mon, you _must_ have one. I'll tell you mine."

"All right, go ahead."

"Shostakovich."

"Really? That's _fascinating._ Why is that, exactly? Have you read his autobiography?"

"No, I didn't even know he— _hey,_ quit stalling!"

Luke grinned. "All right, all right," he said. "If I _had_ to choose…I'd say Martinu."

" _Who_?"

"You're kidding, right? Bohuslav Martinu?"

She shook her head.

"Oh, we're going to have to fix that…"

By the time their food arrived ten minutes later, they had moved from favorite composers to reading preferences and favorite outdoor activities, discovering a mutual taste for gothic literature and a shared love of the mountains. When they had settled comfortably into their meals, Luke reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the flyer. He pushed it across the table toward Rey.

"What's this?" she asked, setting down her fork.

"This is what I wanted to talk to you about," said Luke. "The New York Philharmonic is holding a concerto competition next month. I know it's not a lot of time, but as well as you played that Barber concerto last week, I think you would have a good chance—"

"No," said Rey, her voice suddenly cold. "I can't." She pushed the flyer back across the table.

"Rey, you...you could win this. You have so much talent, so much potential…"

"Don't you think I _know_ that? Don't you think I've been told a _thousand_ times how _talented_ I am, how much _potential_ I have? I don't need it from you, too."

She buried her face in her hands, and Luke had to fight the urge to move to her side of the table and take her in his arms to console her.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, her voice breaking.

"Please, don't be," said Luke. " _I'm_ sorry—I shouldn't have pushed you. Look—" He slid the flyer toward her again. "Just keep this. Think about it. But I won't pressure you, I promise. We don't even have to talk about it again if you don't want to."

She nodded slowly and put the flyer in her purse. The pain was there in her eyes again, stronger and deeper than he had ever seen it. He would do _anything_ to take that from her, to see her eyes sparkle again…

"Hey, when was the last time you went to a symphony concert?" he asked on a whim.

"The New York Phil? Um...probably not since college. Student discount, you know."

"Would you like to go?"

"I—well, of course. They're amazing, I just can't really afford the ticket prices."

"A friend of mine gave me two tickets for next Saturday night," he said. "Would you like to come with me?"

"Me?" she asked. "I mean, don't you have a wife or girlfriend or somebody who you'd rather take instead?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Nobody like that."

She smiled hesitantly. "Well, then...sure. I'd love to."

They finished eating, chatting sporadically about nothing in particular. The sadness in Rey's eyes hadn't completely disappeared, but the smile she gave him as they said goodbye seemed genuine, and she mentioned how much she was looking forward to the concert.

Now all Luke had to do was figure out how on earth to find two tickets to an already-sold-out show.


	4. Chapter 4

On Monday afternoon Rey received an email from Luke, addressed to the whole orchestra, saying that he would be out of town on Tuesday and that an old mentor and colleague of his, Maestro Yoda, would be filling in for him while he was gone. Rey couldn't help feeling a twinge of disappointment that she wouldn't be able to see Luke, but at least she still had Saturday night to look forward to.

She wasn't sure which excited her more—the chance to attend a real symphony concert for the first time in years, or the idea of spending an entire evening with Luke. She was sure he still wasn't thinking of this as a date—more likely he'd just felt sorry for her after the ridiculous way she'd behaved at lunch—but she couldn't deny that she'd been pleased to discover he was at least available. Maybe Jessika had been right—maybe music really was the only thing he loved.

* * *

Maestro Yoda turned out to be a short, elderly man with a fringe of snow-white hair and, Rey couldn't help but notice, rather large ears. He smiled impishly as he stepped up onto the podium, sharp eyes darting back and forth between the musicians and the seating chart in his hand. Speaking in a thick accent Rey couldn't quite identify, he murmured names to himself as he scanned the room.

"Paige, hmm...Ezra...Rose, yes...Poe Dameron….hmm, Finn…Ben Solo...Rey…" He paused, fixing his gaze on Rey. "Rey... _Kenobi_. Perhaps...related to the great violinist of the same name, are you?"

Rey shifted uncomfortably in her chair, aware of everyone's eyes on her. "Ben Kenobi was my grandfather," she said quietly. Beside her, she heard Ben suck in a sharp breath.

"Hoohmm," hummed Maestro Yoda. "Very interesting. Very interesting indeed."

Despite his frail appearance, Maestro Yoda proved to be an accomplished and animated conductor, though his patience seemed more easily tested than Luke's.

"No!" he said a few minutes into the first piece, tapping his baton loudly against the podium. "Too fast! Feel the rhythm, you must. Again."

By the end of rehearsal, Rey was exhausted. Maestro Yoda had worked everyone hard, but he seemed to have taken a particular interest in the first violin section, making them play and replay all the most difficult passages until they were perfect.

Ben disappeared without a word again as soon as they were finished, but Maestro Yoda paused by her chair as he passed by.

"Well done, Rey Kenobi," he said, putting a gnarled hand on her shoulder. "Proud of you your grandfather would be."

Rey nodded her thanks, and Maestro Yoda moved on with a smile and a slight bow. As a conductor he might be intimidating, but there was something about him that she couldn't help but feel drawn to. Luke clearly had a tremendous respect for him, and she could see why.

She stopped to talk to Jessika and Rose on the way out, and when Jessika asked about her week, she blurted out her plans for the concert with Luke without thinking.

"You're WHAT?" Jessika shrieked.

" _Shh_ ," Rey hissed. "It's nothing, honestly. It's not like it's a date, I think he just felt badly that I hadn't been to the symphony in so long."

"OF COURSE it's a date! I haven't been to a symphony concert since I was _six_ , and Luke's never offered to take me anywhere!"

" _What's_ a date?"

"Who's dating Luke?"

Two faces popped up from behind Jessika's shoulders, both wide-eyed with curiosity.

"Rey, this is Finn, and that's Poe," said Jessika. "They're both dorks, but completely harmless."

"Hey, I resent that," said Poe. "I like to think I have a little bit of _dangerous_ left in me. Anyway, spill—what's this about something that's not a date, but actually is?"

"Rey's going to a New York Philharmonic concert with Luke on Saturday."

"Oh, that's definitely a date," said Finn. "No question."

"But why would someone like Luke want to go on a date with _me_?" said Rey.

"Probably because he likes you?" said Finn. "That's the usual reason, anyway."

"Do _you_ want it to be a date?" asked Rose.

"I don't know," said Rey. "I mean..I just haven't been thinking of it like that, but...I guess I wouldn't mind."

" _Now_ we're getting somewhere," said Jessika. "So what are you going to wear?"

"All right, I'm out," said Finn. "They've started talking clothes; they'll be at this for hours. C'mon, Poe."

"I'll be there in a minute," said Poe.

Rey managed to extricate herself from the clothing discussion by promising to text Jessika a picture of her outfit. Poe ran after her as she headed for the door.

"Hey," he said, "I just wanted to say that that's really amazing about your grandfather. I play trumpet, and even _I_ know who Ben Kenobi is. He was a legend. Were you close to him?"

Rey hesitated—how did you put a relationship like theirs into words? How did you compress twenty-one years into a single sentence? In the end she only nodded and walked away, leaving Poe staring after her in confusion.


	5. Chapter 5

Not for the first time, Luke found himself grateful for a unique network of friends. The conducting conference he'd attended on Tuesday had stretched late into Wednesday afternoon, so it was Thursday before he'd had a chance to even think about trying to find the symphony tickets. His first call was to Han, his brother-in-law (and Ben's father), who suggested contacting Lando, an old mutual friend. Luke knew Han and Lando still kept in touch, but Luke hadn't spoken to him in years, so he was surprised at how eager Lando had been to help.

"These are for you and a lady friend, I'm guessing?" asked Lando.

"Well...yes."

"Let me make some calls," he said, and Luke could almost _hear_ him smirking.

An hour later Lando called back with a price. It was three times what they were worth, but Luke was desperate, and Lando assured him they were authentic. They made the arrangements, and by Friday afternoon Luke had the tickets in hand.

Saturday night he took a cab and arrived at Rey's apartment at 7:15 as they'd planned, tickets tucked safely in his inside jacket pocket. He went up and knocked, and was struck momentarily breathless when Rey opened the door.

She was wearing a gray and black print dress that fell just above the knee, her hair pulled up in a style vaguely reminiscent of something out of a 1940s film. She smiled a little nervously at him, and he could feel his pulse racing.

"Is this okay?" she asked. "I couldn't remember what people usually wear to these things…"

"You're perfect," he breathed, then caught himself. "I mean...I'm sure that's fine. You look great." He hoped the light was dim enough that she wouldn't be able to see his cheeks turning red.

He led her out to the cab, careful not to touch her in any way that might make her uncomfortable. Regardless of his own feelings, he was determined to keep this professional unless Rey made it clear she wanted more than that. Most likely she only saw him as a mentor, perhaps a potential friend—it would have been presumptuous of him to expect any more than that, especially given the difference in their ages. Whatever made her happy would be enough for him, and if he was able to spend time with her occasionally because of it, so much the better.

Even with traffic, the ride to the concert hall was a short one. Luke held his breath while the usher scanned their tickets, but Lando proved true to his word, and they were soon on their way to find their seats.

"Your friend has amazing seats," Rey said as they took their places in the fifth row. "Does he have season tickets or something?"

"Uh, something like that, yes," said Luke.

They sat down, and Rey started flipping through the program. Suddenly she let out a squeal.

"You didn't tell me they were doing Shostakovich!" she said, grabbing his forearm with one hand and holding up the program with the other. " _Chamber Symphony for Strings_...I played the original string quartet version in college. It's my absolute _favorite_."

"I'd like to say I knew all along and was trying to keep it a surprise," said Luke sheepishly, "but I honestly had no idea what they were playing. I never bothered to check."

"That's okay. It was a surprise for both of us this way." She read over the rest of the music. "No Martinu, though...too bad for you."

"I'm sure I'll survive," said Luke. "But I _am_ going to make you listen to his symphonies someday."

They sat in silence for a few minutes while the orchestra filed onstage and began to warm up. Beside him, he could feel Rey settling back into her seat, getting comfortable.

"I asked Maestro Yoda how the rehearsal went on Tuesday night," said Luke. "He mentioned something about you being related to Ben Kenobi? I had always wondered, but…" He noticed her expression and started to backtrack. "It's all right if it's not something you want to talk about."

"No, it's okay," said Rey, but Luke noticed she took a very deliberate breath before continuing. "He was my grandfather, but he felt more like a father to me in some ways. My parents died when I was only a few years old, so I lived with him after that. He was actually the one who taught me how to play."

"That explains a lot," said Luke. "I can see a bit of him in you."

"Did you _know_ him?"

"Not well. He performed with the Chicago Symphony once while I was conducting there. I just remember being blown away by the... _elegance_ of his playing. I'd never heard anything like it—not until I heard you play, that is. Your style is so similar to his, it's remarkable."

"I'm nowhere near as good as he was," said Rey.

"Not yet, maybe, but—"

The lights dimmed, and the concertmaster walked out on stage, applause drowning out the rest of Luke's words. He sat back in his chair, hoping they would be able to finish the conversation later.

As the music began, Luke had to admit he was spending almost as much time watching Rey as he was watching the musicians. She looked absolutely _enraptured_ —eyes closed, lips slightly parted, drinking in every note as if she had never in her life heard anything so beautiful. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

During intermission Rey excused herself to use the restroom. By the time she returned, the second half of the program was just beginning, so they didn't have a chance to talk further.

When the first few notes of the Shostakovich _Chamber Symphony_ rang out from the stage, she reached over again and rested her hand on Luke's forearm, almost as if to steady herself. He kept perfectly still, afraid to move lest he somehow frighten her away and lose that warm, delicate weight and the feeling of trust that went along with it.

It wasn't until the room broke out in applause half an hour later that she finally moved her hand.

The night was unseasonably warm for late February, with just a hint of chill in the air, so when Luke suggested they walk part of the way back to Rey's apartment she readily agreed. Her mind was still buzzing with the music and the thrill of seeing a live performance—and, though she felt silly admitting it even to herself, with the feeling of having Luke's suit jacket under her fingers for the last half of the concert. She had been so caught up in the music when she moved her hand that she'd hardly realized what she was doing, and by the time she figured it out...well, she _liked_ having it there. And Luke didn't seem to have any objection, so…

They pulled on their coats and started walking in the direction of Rey's apartment, the streets awash in the perpetual noise of a New York City night.

"I think I can safely assume you enjoyed that, then?" said Luke.

"It was _wonderful_ ," said Rey. "Absolutely perfect. Thank you so much for inviting me. And thank your friend for giving us the tickets, too."

"Oh, I...I definitely will."

At the end of the block, Luke touched her arm. "Let's cut across the street here," he said. "There's someplace I want to stop."

Curious, Rey followed him across and down another block until he paused in front of a street vendor on the corner.

"I _knew_ you had a hot chocolate side," she said, grinning. The vendor had a large cardboard sign propped up against his cart proclaiming it the "best flavored hot chocolate in NYC."

"Doesn't everyone have a hot chocolate side?" Luke asked.

"If they don't, they really should," said Rey, looking over the list of flavors.

They ordered, and Rey reached into her purse, shaking her head when Luke tried to protest.

"My treat," she said. "You provide the tickets, I provide the drinks."

Hot chocolate in hand, they found a nearby bench and sat down, warming their fingers on the insulated paper cups.

Rey took a careful sip, trying not to burn her tongue. "So I saw a poster in the lobby about the concerto competition," she said. "It said they were accepting applications for guest conductors, too. You should give it a shot."

Luke's expression, which had brightened considerably when she mentioned the competition, dimmed again. "I...don't think so," he said.

"Why not? It's open to anyone, right? And you're amazing, you ought to be doing more than just directing a community orchestra."

"I just don't think it's a good idea."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, interrupted only by the noise of passing traffic and the faint echo of a siren in the distance. Rey twisted her cup in her hands.

"I think…" she said finally, "I think we both have things that we're afraid of. Things that have happened...things that have changed the way we live our lives. And not necessarily for the better."

Luke remained silent, staring down at his hands.

"What you do about your past is up to you, obviously," she went on, "but if it's all right...I think I'd like to tell you about mine."

He looked up, shifting his position so that he was facing her. "Of course," he said. "Please."

Rey took a slow, deep breath. "My grandfather started teaching me to play when I was nine," she said. "I suppose it was a bit late for me to be considered a prodigy, but I was good. Very good. He was an excellent teacher—he expected a lot of me, but that was just his way of pushing me to do my best. I could never fault him for that.

"I had my first major performance when I was thirteen, as a soloist with the San Francisco Chamber Symphony. It went perfectly, and from then on I was inundated with praise, interviews, requests for performances...it was more than my thirteen-year-old mind could handle. Grandfather was the only one who kept me focused. He always told me it was about the music, not the fame—popularity would grow and fade with time, but if you were true to your music, that at least would stay with you.

"I tried...I really did. But I couldn't shake the weight of everyone's expectations. As long as Grandfather was around, I could handle it. He kept me calm, gave me the strength I needed, and reminded me that there were people who loved me regardless of how well I performed. He came to every single one of my concerts, even rearranging his own playing schedule to make sure he could be there to support me.

"In my third year of college, I was scheduled to play with the LA Philharmonic—by far the biggest performance of my career. The night before the concert…"

Rey's voice faltered, and she bit her lip, trying to keep the tears from falling. Luke set down his cup and reached over to take her hand in both of his.

"Take your time," he said quietly.

She nodded, taking a second to collect herself. "On the night before the concert, he...my grandfather passed away unexpectedly. I was devastated; I didn't know what to do. I suppose I should have called off the performance, but at the time, I just didn't want to let everyone down, so I went ahead with it. Or I tried to, anyway.

"I got on stage, and out of habit I looked for him in the front row where he always sat. When I realized he wasn't there, something... _broke_ inside me. I started to play, but I only made it about thirty seconds into the piece before I lost it. I just froze; I couldn't remember a single note. The conductor graciously started again, but the second time through I only managed the first few measures before I fell apart. I ran off the stage in tears.

"I dropped out of college after that, and never touched my violin. Spent the next six months in and out of mental hospitals, therapy sessions...I was a mess. I'd lost the only two things I'd ever really known—my grandfather and my music. I wasn't sure who I was anymore, or if it even mattered."

Luke squeezed her hand reassuringly. She set down her drink on the bench and slid her other hand over the top of his.

"When I came to that first orchestra rehearsal and you said you wanted to listen to me play, I was terrified. I hadn't picked up my violin in five years. But somehow, it was still there. The Barber concerto...that was what I was supposed to be performing that night five years ago. Playing it for you, and getting through it, getting it right...it felt like a new beginning.

"But the concerto competition…I mean, playing for you is one thing, but just thinking about performing again brings all of those feelings rushing back. The pressure, the fear, the grief. And yet somewhere underneath all that, there's the _joy_ that I used to feel when I played, and the thrill of performing for an audience."

She shook her head. "I want to do it again. I really do. But I'm not sure if I'm ready. Not yet."

"I understand," said Luke gently. "And it's completely your decision. I'll be here to support you whichever way you choose."

There it was again—that achingly beautiful kindness in his eyes. It wasn't pity, nor anything half so fleeting and shallow as that. It was a compassion so _deep_ and so _pure_ and so _part of him_ that it poured from his being like light into a darkened room. Rey wanted to capture the image of his face in her mind, so that she would always remember the moment when he looked at _her_ like that, and that even the memory of it would make her feel warm and safe.

He gave her hand a final squeeze before glancing down at his watch. "It's nearly midnight," he said. "I'd better get you home."

He hailed a cab and gave the driver Rey's address. When they arrived a few minutes later, he walked her up to the door.

"I wanted to give you this," he said, pulling a business card out of his wallet. "I use it for my private music lessons, which is why my address is on there, but it has my cell number, too. Call me if you ever need to talk, okay?"

She took the card, running her thumb across the embossed letters of his name.

"I will."

Just before she turned to go inside, she reached out and threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug, leaning in so she could whisper in his ear.

" _Thank you._ "


	6. Chapter 6

Rey spent the rest of the weekend thinking about the concerto competition, and by the time Tuesday night arrived she had made a decision. Jessika pounced as soon as she came through the door, begging for details of how the concert with Luke had gone; Rey told her as much as she dared, intentionally leaving out their conversation on the way home.

"So...any plans for a second date?" Jessika asked with a wink.

"I'm still not convinced there was a _first_ date," said Rey, though just the thought of seeing him again tonight was making her stomach feel fluttery.

Ben was already there went she went to sit down, but she did her best to avoid looking at him.

"I hope you're not thinking about entering," he said a moment later when she opened her case. She was briefly confused until she realized she had tucked the flyer for the concerto competition inside behind her bow.

"And if I am?" she said.

" _Don't_. You'll only be disappointed when I win."

"You're so sure of that, are you?"

"Of course," he said. "It's based on _skill,_ you know—not on having famous relatives."

"Maybe we should let the judges decide for themselves who has the most _skill_."

" _Look_ —" he hissed. He leaned in closer to her, but at that moment Luke walked by on his way to the podium. Ben pulled back as Luke looked down at both of them, his eyes narrowing.

Ben's style that night was even more agitated than usual. He angled his body toward her while he played, forcing her to sit far back in her chair to avoid being hit by the end of his bow, and he swore at her under his breath when she was late in turning a page.

At the end of rehearsal, Luke came over to her immediately.

"Could I speak with you in my office, Rey?" he asked, eyeing Ben carefully.

She nodded and hurriedly packed up her case, grateful that Luke's presence meant Ben wouldn't dare say anything further.

They walked back to his office together in silence, but Rey could sense a tension, a _tightness_ , in Luke that was unlike him. Only when they were inside with the door closed behind them did he finally speak.

"Tell me honestly, Rey," he said, "is Ben giving you any trouble? Because if he is, I—"

"It's nothing," said Rey. "I think he's just upset that he might have a bit more competition than he expected."

Luke looked at her curiously. "You mean…"

She nodded. "I've decided to enter the concerto contest. I think it's what my grandfather would have wanted me to do."

He smiled. "That's wonderful," he said. "I know he would be proud of you. And...well, so am I. If there's anything I can do to help you prepare, anything at all, just let me know."

"Should I feel special?" Rey asked. "I'm guessing you didn't extend that same offer to Ben when you found out he was entering."

Luke laughed bitterly. "Ben would never accept help from me even if I _did_ offer—but you're right, I didn't." He took a step closer to her. "And yes...you should feel special. Because you are. Not because of your talent, or anything you've done, but just..."

Rey held her breath as he reached out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb lingering against her cheek.

"...because you're _you_."

The moment passed as quickly as it had come—Luke dropped his hand and stepped back, and Rey looked down at the floor to try to hide the color rising in her cheeks.

"I should go," she said quietly. "I'd like to get the entry form filled out tonight, so…"

He nodded. "Give me a call if you need anything. Otherwise I'll...see you next week."

Out in the hallway, Rey leaned against the wall for a moment, trying to slow her racing heart. _Because you're you…_ Had anyone ever said that to her before? Had anyone ever told her she was special just because of _who she was_ , not what she could do?

She reached up and touched her cheek where Luke's thumb had brushed against it, imagining she could still feel his warmth there. She had wanted to lean into his hand, to feel his fingers slide into her hair…

She was still lost in her fantasy when she came around the corner and felt someone grab her by the shoulder, shoving her up against the wall.

"My uncle can't always be there to protect you, you know," said Ben, pressing close to her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

"Who says I need protecting?" said Rey. She fought to free herself from his grip, but he only pressed harder, the rough brick scraping the skin at the nape of her neck.

"You will if you enter that competition," he said. "Don't believe me? Go ahead. Just know that I will do _whatever is necessary_ to keep you from having a chance at winning."

He gave her one last shove and then released her. As he walked away, he turned back briefly to face her.

"Wouldn't it be just _terrible_ if the great Ben Kenobi's precious granddaughter had to give up playing forever because of some...tragic accident?"

He disappeared down the hallway, and Rey felt like she was going to be sick. She was equal parts furious and terrified, and she wasn't sure which emotion was going to take control. All she wanted to do was run back to Luke's office, throw herself into his arms, and ask him to make everything okay.

But in the end it was sheer stubbornness that made her decision: she wasn't going to let Ben Solo, or anyone else, control her. He could threaten all he wanted. She was going to enter that competition, and she was going to make the people who mattered proud.


	7. Chapter 7

Rey spent every spare minute of her time that week practicing. She got up an hour earlier than usual to practice before going in to work (much to the delight of her neighbors, she was sure) and tried to get at least another three hours in during the evening before bed. Every muscle in her body ached, but it didn't matter. Most of the other entrants, Ben included, had likely been preparing for months—Rey had a week and a half, and she was going to make the most of every second.

She had half-considered skipping rehearsal the following Tuesday, both to avoid Ben and to squeeze in a few more hours of practice time, but her desire to see Luke won out in the end. She deliberately arrived a few minutes late, sneaking quietly over to her seat just as the orchestra had finished tuning, but to her relief Ben wasn't there. Luke gave her a smile as she sat down.

"Just a quick announcement before we begin," he said as the room quieted. "Two of our members will be entering the New York Philharmonic concerto competition this Friday: Rey Kenobi and Ben Solo. The three winners, one each from the strings, winds, and brass categories, will be featured soloists at a special concert next month. Let's all wish them the best, shall we?"

After rehearsal, Jessika, Rose, Finn, and Poe all came over to wish Rey luck in the competition. Behind them, she could see Luke waiting to speak to her, so she thanked everyone and then excused herself.

"Ready?" Luke asked with a smile as she approached him.

"I hope so," said Rey. " I was wondering...would you have time to listen to me play the concerto before Friday? Just to see if you have any suggestions on how I could improve it."

"I'd be delighted," he said. "Tomorrow night okay? I could meet you here."

"Perfect. What time?"

"Just shoot me a text when you're ready," he said. "I don't have any plans, and I'm only a few minutes' walk from here."

"Sounds great—see you then."

Rey hurried outside and started toward the bus stop, hoping to catch an earlier bus and make it home in time to run through her piece. Halfway there, she was passing by an alley when she tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and dropped her music folder, sending sheet music fluttering all over the pavement.

 _So much for the early bus_ , she thought, grumbling to herself as she set her violin case down beside her and knelt to pick up the scattered music.

She had nearly finished when a flicker of movement to her left caught her attention. Before she even had a chance to react, a figure in black clothing darted out of the alley, grabbed the handle of her violin case, and ran back the way he had come.

"Hey! That's—" she yelled, dropping the folder and sprinting into the alley after him. It was dark, but she could just make out the shape of a man a dozen yards ahead of her, running with her case in hand. Anger and adrenaline surging through her, she caught up with him in a matter of seconds and reached out to grab the arm holding the case. She wrapped both hands around his bicep and hung on, trying to pull him down, but he flung his arm backwards and sent the heavy case crashing into the side of her head.

She fell back, stunned—blurrily, she saw him start running again, and before her brain could finish processing that _I have to follow him I have to that's my violin he's got my baby_ her legs were already moving. It took her longer to catch up this time, but when she did she aimed for his torso, grabbing him around the waist in an awkward tackle that sent them both sprawling face-first on the concrete.

In the process of falling she slid down closer to his knees, and when she felt him trying to stand she wrapped both arms around his ankles in a last-ditch attempt to keep him in place, but it was no use. He freed one foot, then dragged her two yards across the pavement until she finally released the other with a sob.

Rey had nothing left. She lay stretched out on the ground, face pressed against the cold stone, and listened to the pounding echo of his footsteps as he ran away.

She had no idea how long she stayed there. She could find no reason to leave. What did it matter? To have finally found that part of her soul that had been hidden for so many years, only to have it stolen away from her...why should she even keep trying?

 _...Because you're you._

" _Luke_." She whispered his name like a mantra, like a magic word that would somehow put the whole world right again just from the sound of it in the air. Opening her eyes, she pulled herself up to a sitting position, wincing as the fresh scrapes and bruises made their presence known. Then she crawled back along the alley and retrieved her purse, lying where it had fallen off her shoulder as she ran, and dug through it until she found Luke's business card. _Just a few minutes' walk…_

Rey would never be entirely sure how she made it to Luke's apartment that night, how she managed to find it at all with only an address and a very limited knowledge of the neighborhood. It was almost as if something were drawing her there, some force outside of herself guiding her to the one person she knew would be able to help. However it happened, she found herself standing outside his door ten minutes later, raising her shaking hand to knock.

He opened it almost immediately. "Rey? Oh, my— _Rey,_ _what happened?"_

Just the sight of him undid her, unraveling the careful web of strength she'd woven around herself. She collapsed into his arms, a sob ripping out of her chest.

" _He stole it_ ," she choked out. " _Took it...it's gone…"_

"Who stole what?" said Luke. "Hold on—let's get you inside." He bent down and slid his arm under her knees, picking her up and carrying her through the door. She clutched at the fabric of his sweater like a lifeline, the only thing keeping her whole. Even when he set her down gently on the couch she couldn't let go, so he sat down beside her and held her against him until she stopped shaking, her head tucked beneath his chin.

"Rey, sweetheart," he said finally, smoothing the hair back from her face, "tell me what happened."

She told him everything, her voice hoarse and quivering. Luke listened without interrupting, though she felt him tense as she described her attempt to chase down the thief.

"It was my grandfather's violin," she said, wiping the tears from her cheek. "Not his best one—that was a Strad, it's in a museum in Italy somewhere—but the one he used when he was younger, when he first started playing professionally. He gave it to me on my 16th birthday."

"Do you have any idea who did this?" he asked. His blue eyes had hardened, and the sparkle in them now reminded her of light glinting off cold steel.

She shook her head. "I didn't see his face."

"Could it have—"

"It wasn't Ben," she said, anticipating his question. "I caught a glimpse of his hair underneath the hood. It was light—blonde, or maybe red. It couldn't have been him."

Luke looked unconvinced, but he let it go. "First things first," he said, putting one finger under her chin and turning her head carefully to the side. "I don't like the look of some of these cuts. I'd feel better if we took you down to the hospital to have them checked out, and make sure that blow to your head didn't cause any serious damage."

"No, please," she said. "I'm sure I'm fine. They probably look worse than they are—maybe if I just took a shower, cleaned up a little bit…"

"That's not going to do you any good if you have a concussion." He sighed. "If you'd rather not go to the hospital, let me at least call my sister. She's an ER doctor, so if she's not on shift she might be able to stop by and take a look at you."

"Isn't it kind of late?" said Rey, realizing she had no idea what time it actually was. "I'd hate to bother her."

"It's only 11:00," he said, pulling out his phone. "And trust me, she's used to keeping odd hours."

He got off the phone a few minutes later and said Leia was on her way. Rey apologized half a dozen times for the trouble she was causing everyone, but Luke wouldn't hear it. He shushed her yet again as he brought out a wet cloth to clean the dirt from her face.

"It's no trouble at all, Rey," he said, dabbing carefully at the area around the scrape on her cheek. "I'm just glad I could be here to help. Although I wish you would have called me to pick you up rather than walking all the way over here by yourself."

"I guess I wasn't thinking clearly. I just..." She shivered. The initial shock was wearing off, and she could feel the pain of her injuries cutting through the last of the adrenaline that had masked them. She was cold, too—a deep, _inside_ sort of cold that seemed to start in the center of her bones and move outward like a slow, creeping frost. She huddled closer to him, instinctively seeking his warmth.

Luke set the cloth down on the back of the couch and put his arm around her shoulders, tracing two fingers down the side of her arm. "Just what?" he asked.

"I just needed you," she said. "Needed to see you. It never occurred to me to call, because all I could think was how much I wanted to see your face."

She reached up and put her hand on his cheek, the roughness of his beard tickling her palm. He closed his eyes, leaned ever-so-slightly into her touch…

A loud knock at the door made them both jump.

"That'll be Leia," said Luke, clearing his throat self-consciously. He slid his arm off Rey's shoulders and stood up, making his way to the door.

"Hey, Luke," Leia said as he let her inside. She gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then turned toward Rey. "And how's the patient? You must be Rey."

Leia was every bit as beautiful as her brother was handsome. She was pure elegance and dignity, from the way she carried herself to her perfectly-styled hair and designer clothing. Rey felt suddenly underdressed; she tried not to think about what her hair must look like.

Leia came over and sat next to her on the couch, asking questions about how she felt and shining a bright light into her eyes that made her head ache worse than it already did.

"No signs of a concussion," she said finally, "but her temperature is a bit low. Not quite hypothermic, but headed that direction. How long were you outside, Rey?"

Luke answered for her. "Rehearsal lets out at 9:00, and she didn't show up here till almost 11:00, so…"

"It's no wonder you're chilled, then," said Leia. "I'd rather you not stay by yourself tonight—do you have a roommate or a boyfriend, someone who could keep an eye on you?"

Rey shook her head. "No, I—"

"She can stay here," Luke interrupted. "I'll look after her. I mean…" He turned toward Rey. "If that's all right with you, of course."

Rey nodded, her face feeling suddenly warmer in spite of how cold she was. "Of course," she said. "Thank you."

A curious expression flickered across Leia's face. "Well, that's settled, then," she said. "Let me just get these cuts cleaned up and I'll be out of your hair." She turned to Luke. "Have you reported this to the police yet?"

"Not yet," he said. "I'd considered waiting until morning, but…"

She pulled her phone out of her purse, unlocked it, and handed it to him. "Better to do it now," she said. "I have the number for the local precinct in there—ask for Officer Rook if he's available, he's a good man."

Luke called while Leia finished cleaning and dressing the cuts on Rey's face, hands, and knees, and Officer Rook arrived ten minutes later. He took Rey's statement and asked for a description of both the violin and the man who had taken it—she told him as much as she could about his build and hair color, but admitted she couldn't be certain of any of it.

"And the approximate value of the violin?" Rook asked.

"About $200,000." She heard Luke gasp quietly behind her, but Rook simply wrote the number down on his notepad, seemingly unphased.

The officer left, and Leia followed soon after, giving Rey a hug and wishing her a quick recovery.

"You're in good hands with my brother," she said. "He's always been the more soft-hearted of the two of us, so I'm sure he'll make an excellent nurse."

Luke rolled his eyes. He opened the door for Leia, giving her a one-armed hug on the way out and promising to call if Rey felt any worse. Then he locked the door behind her and came over to sit down on the couch, though Rey noticed he intentionally left some space between them.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

 _Sore. Exhausted. Devastated. Confused._

"I'm okay."

"Are you still cold?"

"A little."

He went over and switched on the gas fireplace. "Will you be all right sleeping on the couch?" he said. "With the fireplace, it's actually warmer out here, otherwise I'd say you should take the bedroom…"

"This will be fine," she said. "I appreciate you letting me stay here."

"You're very welcome."

They sat in silence for a moment, Luke rubbing his hands together slowly. He looked nearly as tired as she felt.

"Well," he said finally, getting to his feet, "let me go grab some blankets and dig up something for you to wear. I think we could both use some sleep."

He came back a few minutes later with an enormous pile of blankets, spreading two of them out over the couch and leaving the rest of the pile on the floor nearby in case she needed them.

"Clothing choices were a little sparse," he said, handing her a dark gray, hooded sweatshirt and a pair of plaid flannel pants. "Not a particularly fashionable look, and it's highly unlikely either one will fit, but they'll keep you warm."

"They'll be great," said Rey. _Certainly better than the filthy, torn clothes she was currently wearing._

"Um, let's see," he said. "Bathroom's down the hall—there's some ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet if you want it—and if you need anything else my room's the first door on the right. Does that cover everything?"

She nodded. "Got it."

"Good. Well, then...goodnight, Rey."

"Goodnight, Luke."

As soon as Luke closed his bedroom door, Rey headed to the bathroom to change, hugging her makeshift pajamas to her chest. They were soft, and smelled like him—a little bit earthy, a little bit sweet. The sweatshirt was comfortably big, and though the pants threatened to fall down every time she moved, that didn't matter once she was safely curled up beneath the blankets. She fell asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.


	8. Chapter 8

Luke woke up an hour later to the sound of screaming. It took him three-quarters of a second to orient himself and remember why there was a woman in his living room, and by that point he was already half out of bed and reaching for his robe. A thousand possibilities ran through his mind, each one worse than the last—had someone broken in? If the man who had stolen Rey's violin had decided to follow her…

He grabbed the baseball bat he kept in the closet and threw open his bedroom door, ready to take on whoever was—

But there was no one there. In the flickering light from the fireplace Luke could just make out the shape of Rey sitting upright on the couch, hands clamped over her ears, still screaming at the top of her lungs. He dropped the bat and ran over to her, kneeling beside her on the floor.

"Rey?" He took hold of her shoulder, trying to get her to turn to face him. "What is it, are you—"

She stopped screaming and jerked away from him, throwing her arm back and hitting him in the face with her elbow. He grunted in surprise and nearly fell over backward. Rey pressed against the back of the couch, eyes wide, staring at him without recognition.

Luke held up both hands, trying to seem as non-threatening as possible. "It's all right, Rey," he said. "It's just me. It's Luke. You're okay."

She relaxed slightly, no longer trying to back away, but he could see now that she was shaking. Very carefully, he reached out and took one of her hands—it was freezing. Leia's concern over her temperature flashed through his mind.

"Are you cold?"

She nodded.

Luke sat next to her on the couch, pulling his robe more tightly around himself. He was suddenly very grateful for the pajama pants and undershirt he'd chosen to wear to bed.

"Come here," he said quietly, holding out his arm. After a moment's hesitation, she scooted closer to him and leaned up against his chest, her head nestled beneath his chin. He reached over her and took hold of the blankets, pulling them up around her shoulders to cover them both, then wrapped one arm carefully around her waist.

"Is this okay?" he asked. "Are you warm enough?"

She nuzzled her head against him in response, her fingers curling possessively around the edges of his robe.

"Don't leave," she said sleepily. "Please don't leave."

He tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her closer, and she sighed contentedly. With his free hand he gently stroked her hair until her breathing calmed, settling into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep.

 _Just until she's warm enough_ , he told himself. _That's all this is. I'm just keeping her warm._

But he couldn't deny that the weight of her sleeping form on his chest made his heart flutter. He looked down at her face, a gauze patch still taped over one cheek, and wished for the hundredth time that he could take away the pain she carried and somehow make everything right again.

When he had opened his apartment door to see her standing there, face streaked with blood and dirt, clothing torn and agony in her eyes, the fear that shot through him had been almost physically painful. All he had wanted to do was _fix it_ , solve everything and make absolutely certain she would never be hurt like that again. But he couldn't. And he hated how powerless that made him feel.

As adamantly as Rey had insisted that it wasn't Ben who had stolen her violin, Luke still couldn't believe that he wasn't involved in some way. Her mention of the thief's hair color had triggered something in his mind, but he hadn't realized what it was until after Leia and Officer Rook had gone. He had sent Leia a text as soon as he was back in his bedroom after Rey had settled in.

LS: _That friend of Ben's - Hux, is it? What color is his hair?_

She wrote back a few minutes later.

LOS: _Red, I think. Why?_

LOS: _Wait...do you think he could have done this?_

Luke hesitated before responding, knowing that what he had to say wouldn't be easy for Leia to hear. But he also knew it wouldn't surprise her.

LS: _I think it's possible Ben may have asked him to do it. There's been some rivalry between Ben and Rey, and I wouldn't put it past him._

He waited a long ten minutes for her to reply. When she finally did, it was brisk and to the point—typical Leia.

LOS: _I'll call Rook in the morning._

Rey shifted against him, bringing him back to the present. He touched his fingers to her hair again, moving it gently away from her face.

 _Just a few more minutes,_ he thought. _Just until she's warm._

 _Just a few…_

 _Just…_

When Luke awoke five hours later, the first hint of dawn was creeping in through the windows, and both of Rey's arms had managed to slip beneath the fabric of his robe and were now tightly wrapped around his middle. At some point during the night he had stretched out with his legs on the couch, making it so Rey was effectively curled up on top of him, his hands resting lightly on her back. She was still sound asleep.

He carefully extricated himself from her grasp, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of her head as he tucked the blankets back around her shoulders. Maybe he couldn't solve everything for her.

But he was certainly going to try.


	9. Chapter 9

Rey blinked against the sunlight streaming in through the window, trying to remember where she was. She wasn't sure it mattered—she felt so warm, and safe, and comfortable, and—

 _Oh_.

As she rolled over, the tape holding the gauze pad to her cheek snagged on her pillow, tugging at the raw skin underneath and bringing back all the memories of the previous night in a rush. She sat up, wincing as she secured the tape back in place.

"Morning," said Luke cheerily. He was standing in the kitchen, mixing up a bowl of what looked like pancake batter.

 _Why doesn't it surprise me that he's a morning person?_ she thought.

"Breakfast or a shower first?" he asked.

"Ugh, definitely a shower," she groaned. "I need something to make me feel human again."

"Right. In through the bedroom—I've laid out a clean towel for you on the counter. Oh, and I threw your shirt and pants from last night in the wash—they're in the dryer now, but I'll set them outside the bathroom door when they're finished."

Rey couldn't help but smirk. "How utterly domestic of you," she said.

"Hey, my laundry game is on point," said Luke, holding up the wooden spoon he was using and dripping batter on the counter. "Twenty-two years of washing my own clothes and I've only ever turned one shirt pink, thank you very much."

She laughed and headed off to the bathroom, doing some quick math in her head. Luke had to be at least 50—if he'd only been living on his own for the past twenty-two years, that meant there must have been—

Rey was shocked out of her train of thought by a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror. She looked _horrible_ —hair dirty and snarled, one eye bloodshot and a bruise starting to form around the edges of the gauze pad stuck to her cheek. The realization that Luke had seen her like this made her feel slightly sick—even if he had been at all interested before, he certainly wouldn't be now.

She took a shower and washed her hair, careful not to get the gauze too wet. Luke had left a new toothbrush out for her as well, so she brushed her teeth and made herself look as presentable as she could. She'd never been the type to carry makeup in her purse, but at that moment she would have given anything for at least a bit of concealer.

"Feel better?" Luke asked as she came back out into the living room. He was still in the kitchen, a plate of steaming pancakes on the counter behind him as he laid strips of bacon into a pan on the stove.

"A bit," she said. She came over and sat down on a stool at the counter across from him. "That smells _amazing_ , by the way."

He slid her an empty plate and fork. "Help yourself. Bacon will be ready in a few minutes."

She took three pancakes and a generous drizzle of syrup—the stress of the previous night had left her absolutely starving—and sighed in utter bliss as soon as she put the first bite in her mouth.

"Okay, so you're a laundry expert _and_ a phenomenal cook?" she said, cutting off another piece with her fork. "How is it you're not married, again?"

He didn't respond, and she knew as soon as she looked up and saw his expression that it had been the wrong thing to say.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" She paused, looking at his face more carefully. The area around his left cheekbone was red and slightly swollen, and she could see a hint of purple in the center that looked like a bruise was forming.

"What happened?" she asked. "I thought I was the injured one here."

"Ah," he said slowly. "I'm guessing that means you don't remember?"

"Remember what?" said Rey, starting to feel panicked. "What did you do?"

"You woke up in the middle of the night," he said. "Having a nightmare, I think. You were screaming…"

"Oh, no…" Rey groaned and buried her face in her hands, wishing she could slide off the stool and disappear. "I did that to you, didn't I?"

Luke nodded reluctantly. "I was trying to get you to calm down, but—"

"I know...I nearly knocked my college roommate unconscious once. They started after my grandfather passed away, but I haven't had much trouble with them lately, at least not that I've been aware of—last night must have triggered it."  
"That would make sense, yes."

"I'm so sorry, Luke—what a way to thank you for letting me stay here…"

"Don't worry about it. And hey, we match now, so it's not all bad."

Rey nearly choked on the bite of pancake she'd just taken.

"Matching facial injuries," she said. "Something you've always aspired to, is it?"

"Absolutely. Haven't you?"

"All I know is, the less I have to go out in public until this heals, the better," she said.

"No work today, then?"

"No, I took the rest of this week off so I'd have time to practice...not that that makes any difference now." She did her best to blink away the tears that were forming in her eyes.

"Don't give up hope quite yet," said Luke. "There's still a chance you'll get it back. And in the meantime, I might have a temporary solution—I'll show you after breakfast."

When they had finished eating, Luke went into his bedroom and came back with an old black violin case. He set it down on the couch and opened the latch.

"It was my father's," he said. "I haven't taken it out in years, so it might need a new string or two, but it's a good instrument. I know it won't be the same, of course...but I at least wanted to make the offer."

Rey knelt down to touch the reddish-brown wood, still coated in places with a thin layer of rosin dust.

"I didn't know your father played," she said.

"Yes, he, uh...well, he actually studied under your grandfather for a few years, back in the 50s."

"What? Why didn't you tell me?"

"They...didn't exactly have the best relationship, from what I understand. My father was notorious for his temper, even as a teenager, and he didn't respond well to your grandfather's criticism. They fought on numerous occasions, sometimes even to the point of physical violence, and eventually went their separate ways—though my father was publicly critical of Ben Kenobi for the rest of his life. I'm sure you can see why I was hesitant to tell you…"

She nodded.

"I can assure you I've never shared his feelings toward your grandfather—from the little I knew of him I always found him to be kind, gracious, and truly gifted...much as his granddaughter turned out to be."

Rey looked down quickly to hide the blush that was creeping up into her cheeks, pretending to examine the violin's strings more closely.

"I would understand if you didn't want to use it, given its history," said Luke. "I was able to make my peace with my father before he died, but in a way this violin will always be tied to the bitterness he held toward your grandfather."

She lifted the instrument up to her chin, sliding her fingers along the strings. She could feel its age in the way the wood of the neck was worn down to a silky smoothness, in the faded black of the fingerboard.

"Perhaps," she said, setting it carefully back in its case. "Or maybe it just needs its own chance at redemption."

She looked up at him and smiled.

"I'd be honored to use it, Luke. Thank you."

He smiled back. "We can stop and pick up a new set of strings on the way back to your place," he said, closing up the case and moving it to the floor. "I'm going to make absolutely sure you get home safely this time."

He sat down on the couch, and Rey curled up next to him, her feet tucked underneath her.

"Is it really _me_ you're concerned about," she asked, "or do you just want to make sure your father's violin doesn't end up getting stolen, too?"

"I think you already know the answer to that," he said seriously.

 _Curse those beautiful blue eyes of his_ , she thought. He was looking at her _that way_ again, with that warmth and kindness that made her want to simultaneously pour out her soul to him and crawl into his arms. It didn't help that they were so close, her knee just barely brushing up against his thigh. She could see the patches of red and purple on his cheek where she had hit him, the strands of gray mixed in with the blonde in his hair and beard. If she leaned in any closer, they would…

"Can I kiss you?"

The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them. Her chest tightened as Luke's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she quickly turned away—she didn't want to see the look on his face when he rejected her.

"Sorry—no—that's not what I—" She stumbled over the words, trying to build them up like a wall in front of her, something she could hide behind. "I shouldn't have—"

He put two fingers beneath her chin, gently turning her head back to face him.

"I would very much like it if you did," he said.

Rey swallowed, then shivered as Luke's thumb ghosted over her lower lip. She leaned in slowly, laying her hand on his leg to steady herself. She was so close she could hear the shakiness in his breathing as he inhaled—was he as nervous as she was? Could he possibly _want_ this as much as she did?

She closed the last few inches between them and pressed her lips to his, soft and warm and tasting faintly of maple syrup. She could feel him relax the moment they touched, the breath escaping from him in a nearly inaudible sigh that made her heart skip. It was _almost_ too much, _almost_ too wonderful, and for a moment she pulled back, resting her forehead against his. A slow smile crept across her face.

"Can I kiss you again?" she whispered.

Luke laughed. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him, throwing her off balance so she was forced to catch herself by grabbing his shoulders with both hands.

"Oh, but I think it's my turn now, wouldn't you say?" he said.

He brought his other hand up to her face, weaving his fingers into her still-damp hair. She all but melted against him as their lips met, wrapping both arms around his neck and leaning in to deepen the kiss. He tightened his hold on her waist in response.

Every movement he made was unimaginably gentle, every touch laced with the same kindness that lived in his eyes. Rey couldn't remember the last time something as simple as a kiss had made her feel so safe, so cared for, so—

" _Ouch!_ "

Luke pulled back, startled. "Did I hurt you?" he said. "I'm sorry, I should have—"

"No, it's this stupid tape," she said, trying to stick it back in place. "I think the edge of it caught on your beard...I'm kind of surprised you didn't notice, actually."

"I was...somewhat distracted at the time," he said.

"Your sister said this thing should last for at least a full day of normal activities, but..."

"I doubt these were quite the _activities_ Leia had in mind," said Luke wryly. "It wasn't exactly how I was expecting this morning to go, either, to be honest."

Rey lowered her eyes. "Does that mean you regret it?" she asked.

"No. Absolutely not." He pressed a chaste kiss to her undamaged cheek. "Though I do think we should probably get you home. You have practicing to do."

Luke was quiet for most of the cab ride back to her place. They stopped briefly to pick up strings at a music store on the way, and arrived at her apartment shortly before noon. He walked her up to her door, holding the violin case while she unlocked it.

"Call if you need anything," he said, handing the case back to her. "Otherwise I'll see you on Friday at the competition, okay?"

She struggled for words, knowing it was impossible to sum up everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours into a single, neat sentence. In the end, she settled for "thank you", and as he disappeared down the hall she was left wondering why he hadn't been able to look her in the eye for the past half-hour.


	10. Chapter 10

Rey slumped down onto her couch as soon as she got inside, fighting the urge to overanalyze _everything_ that had happened that morning. Something had changed during the ride back—there was a distance growing between them that she didn't entirely understand, except to realize that Luke was the one putting it there. He said he didn't regret the kiss—and he had certainly _seemed_ to enjoy it as much as she had—but something about it was bothering him, she was sure of that.

Grabbing her phone from her purse, she pulled up an image search and typed "Luke Skywalker wife" in the search bar. The first photo that appeared felt to Rey like a punch in the stomach.

Luke was obviously much younger, his hair a pure, sandy blonde and swept neatly across his forehead. He was wearing a tuxedo, absolutely beaming, and holding onto his arm was quite possibly the most beautiful woman Rey had ever seen in her life. Her vibrant red hair fell down in loose curls over her shoulders, and even in the low-resolution photo the emerald green of her eyes was striking. But what stood out the most to Rey was the way they were looking at each other—she had never seen two people more obviously head-over-heels in love. They were perfect together.

She opened the article linked to the photo, and her heart sank as she read the headline:

 _Wife of Chicago Symphony conductor killed in train crash_

 _Mara Jade Skywalker, 23, wife of recently appointed Chicago Symphony conductor Luke Skywalker, was killed on Saturday afternoon in the train derailment between Chicago and Minneapolis. Following the accident, Maestro Skywalker announced his resignation on Monday after only serving a year in the position. The couple had recently celebrated their fourth wedding anniversary._

 _Skywalker was one of 19 casualties from the crash, which officials now believe was caused by…_

Rey couldn't bring herself to read any further. _Poor Luke_ , she thought. It was no wonder he had looked so hurt when she'd joked about him not being married.

She scrolled back up to the photo, staring at it for a long moment. When she finally switched off her phone, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the black screen, and the comparison was almost painful. She wouldn't blame Luke for being disappointed by that kiss. How could she ever compete with the memory of someone that beautiful, someone who had obviously meant the world to him?

Rey glanced down at the violin case on the floor at her feet. Whatever his feelings, it had been incredibly kind of him to let her use his father's instrument. And even if he would never look at her the way he had looked at Mara Jade, she still wanted to make him proud.

* * *

Luke called Leia on the cab ride back to his apartment, hoping she would have more information from talking to Officer Rook that morning.

"They don't have any leads at this point," she said, "but then, they didn't really have much to go on, did they? I gave them Hux's name as a possible fit to Rey's description, so they'll be checking with him, and they're keeping an eye on local pawn shops in case the thief tries to sell it. Do you still think Ben could be behind this?"

"Obviously I don't know anything for certain," said Luke, "but I've seen the way he speaks to Rey, and he seemed furious when he found out she would be entering the competition. That, and...I didn't mention this before, but she's Benjamin Kenobi's granddaughter."

Leia inhaled sharply. " _That_ would be enough to set him off," she said. "Knowing how much Ben idolized his grandfather, I'm sure he believed the lies Anakin was always spewing about Kenobi." She sighed. "Why can't rivalries like this end with the generation that started them? What's the point in keeping them alive when the only people who had any blame in the matter are dead and gone?"

"I suppose everyone has different ways of holding onto the past," said Luke. "Some people keep hold of the happy memories of people they've lost, while others cling to their bitterness."

"As much as I hate to admit it, Ben has always been the bitter type. But _this_...I've never known him to take something this far."

"Let's give it a few days and see what the police are able to find out," said Luke. "I'll be at the competition on Friday, so I'll keep a close eye on both Ben and Rey to make sure nothing happens."

"I appreciate that," said Leia. "I'm on call that day and Han's out of town—though I doubt Ben would want either of us to be there, anyway."

"I had already planned on going to support Rey, so—"

"All right, hang on," Leia interrupted, "I'm _dying_ to ask. What _exactly_ is going on with you and Rey?"

"Leia… _"_

"Don't give me that—I'm your _sister_. It's my _job_ to ask these kinds of questions. Now, I heard from Han that you were desperate to get your hands on a pair of symphony tickets last week—for you and Rey, perhaps?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"And how did she know how to find her way to your apartment last night? Has she been there before?"

"No, I gave her my business card; it has my—"

"...and where did she sleep?"

"Oh, for— _really_ , Leia?"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," she said, stifling a laugh. "But she's _cute_. Please tell me you've at least _noticed_ that she's cute."

Luke sighed. " _Yes_ , I have noticed that."

"Good. I'll stop bugging you. But Luke...you do know I just want you to be happy, right?"

"I know," he said. "And to be honest, I'm not completely certain where Rey and I stand right now, but I promise I'll tell you if anything comes of it. Especially since I'm sure you'll find out regardless of whether I tell you or not."

"You know me so well. Must be a twin thing."

He was glad she couldn't see him roll his eyes. "Goodbye, Leia," he said.

"Bye, Luke."

He hung up just as the cab arrived back at his apartment. He paid the driver and went inside, but as he shut the door behind him he couldn't help but feel that something was missing. The room was too empty, too quiet. His eyes went immediately to the couch, where the pillows were still rumpled and out of place. It felt strange not to have her there. He'd lived alone for twenty-two years, and after only one night in his apartment Rey's absence had left a tangible hole.

He missed her. Missed her smile, the smell of her hair, the soft touch of her lips against his. But for every ounce of desire he felt, fear rose up in equal measure. He had promised himself that he would never let this happen again.

But now that he had found her—and if she truly wanted him—he wasn't sure he would be able to let her go.


	11. Chapter 11

"Just relax, Rey. You're going to be brilliant."

Rey wasn't so sure. She was standing backstage with Luke, counting down the minutes until her performance time and trying to remember how to breathe.

"But what if I panic?" she said. "What if I get out there and can't remember a single note? I can't do this, Luke—not again. I—"

"Rey, look at me." Luke put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. "You _know_ this. When you played it for me a month ago, without having touched it in years, it was near perfect. With all the work you've put into it since, I can only imagine…"

He brought one hand up to her face and laid it gently against her cheek, carefully avoiding her injury. She no longer wore the gauze pad—the cuts were still painful, but they were slowly starting to heal.

"Just don't overthink it," he said. "Your fingers know what to do—let them. Ignore the judges. Pretend you're only playing it for me again, if you want to. I'll be right there watching."

"In the front row?" she asked.

"In the front row."

He leaned in and placed a kiss on her forehead. For a moment Rey had the feeling that he wanted to do more, but he just gave her a smile instead.

"Ten minutes," he said. "Time for me to find my seat."

Her anxiety doubled the minute he disappeared through the door, as if his presence alone had been keeping her calm. She clutched the neck of Luke's father's violin, automatically fingering the first few measures of the piece.

 _It's not going to happen again. Not like last time._

She peeked around the curtain to watch the violinist who was currently performing—Bruch's _Scottish Fantasy._ She was good—note-perfect, really—but not particularly expressive.

 _Eight minutes._

From the glance she had taken at the schedule earlier, she knew Ben would be performing immediately after her. She'd breathed a huge sigh of relief when she found out that only one performer was allowed backstage at at time. Hopefully she and Luke would be able to leave as soon as she had finished—she had no desire to stay to watch Ben's performance.

 _Five minutes._

* * *

Luke closed the backstage door behind him, wishing there was more he could do to help Rey. But this was her battle to fight. He could support her, encourage her—but he couldn't do it for her, much as he might like to.

As he was turning into the auditorium to find a seat, someone bumped into him coming the opposite direction.

" _Uncle,_ " the man said coldly. He started to walk away, but Luke grabbed his arm.

"Ben," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "Come talk to me for a minute, okay?"

"I'm performing soon. I need to be backstage."

"This won't take long."

Ben tried to jerk his arm out of Luke's grip, but Luke held on, pulling him into a side hallway away from the crowds. The last thing he wanted was to make a scene.

" _Look_ ," he whispered sharply, pushing Ben up against the wall, "I'm giving you one chance—for your mother's sake, not yours. Bring it back by the end of the day and I won't go to the police. But if you don't, or if you even _think_ about doing anything else to hurt Rey, I will _personally_ ensure that you don't see daylight again until you're too old and broken to care."

Ben's expression was blank, unreadable. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Luke leaned in closer. "Yes, you do," he said. " _One chance._ "

He gave Ben a final shove and released his arm. Ben pushed past him, then turned back.

"Your standards really have slipped, _Uncle_ ," he said. "I'm sure Aunt Mara would be thrilled to find out you've been screwing someone half your age."

Only the fear of somehow damaging Rey's chances in the competition kept Luke from punching Ben in the face right then and there. It wasn't the first time he'd had to resist that temptation. Gritting his teeth, he managed to keep both hands at his sides as he walked past Ben into the auditorium.

* * *

Being on stage again felt like a dream. Though Rey had never before set foot on this particular stage, there were pieces of it that felt familiar—the hollow creak of the wooden floorboards, the dust motes drifting slowly through the lights, the sudden blackness just past the edge of the stage, full of the restless murmuring of a faceless crowd. There wouldn't be many people here, she knew—the auditions were open to the public, but most of the audience would consist of family and friends of the participants.

Distantly, she heard someone announce her name and music selection for the benefit of the judges. There was a polite smattering of applause as she reached the front of the stage near the piano. She lifted the instrument to her chin.

The pianist began the introduction, and Rey's eyes automatically went to the front row of the audience, half-expecting to see her grandfather's face smiling back at her.

But it was Luke who smiled instead. She watched him for a moment, letting the warmth of his expression wash over her. Then she closed her eyes and pretended she was playing only for him. They were back in his office, on that very first night—she could almost smell the delicate mix of old wood and paper in the air. It felt exactly the same in some ways, but it was different, too—she was no longer playing for a stranger. She _knew_ Luke now, knew the depths of his kindness and the color of admiration in his eyes. She wasn't afraid or nervous to play for him now, but _excited_. She wanted to show him what she could do, to make him proud.

Rey was hardly aware of her fingers moving over the strings. She could hear the music, but it was almost as if someone else were playing it, as if she had no conscious control over what she was doing. And it was beautiful.

She came back to herself as the echo of the final note faded. The moment she opened her eyes, she looked down at Luke for his reaction.

He was absolutely beaming.

* * *

"Dinner's on me," he said when she met him in the lobby a few minutes later. "We're celebrating."

"Celebrating what?" said Rey. "They won't announce the winners until next week."

"Well, how about the fact that you were _amazing_?" he said. "That you were ten times better than anyone else here, and that—"

"That it's over and I survived?"

Luke laughed. "That, too."

He took her to Niima's, a steakhouse not far from the concert hall. For the most part he seemed to be his normal self during dinner, talking warmly and animatedly, but every once in a while she could sense that distance between them again. It stretched and grew whenever there was a lull in the conversation, and when she looked at him in those moments she could see it in his eyes—he was miles away. Years away.

 _He's thinking about Mara. Wishing she were here instead of me._

But then he would look at her and smile, make some comment about her performance or the meal, laugh—and she would wonder. She hadn't quite figured out how to read him yet, to know what he was thinking or how he felt. All she knew was that she was happiest when she was with him, and she wanted him to be happy, too.

Luke brought Rey back to her apartment after dinner, all the while trying to work out how to tell her what was on his mind. There was so much he wanted her to know, about himself and the way she made him feel, but he didn't know if it was the right time. Or if it would ever be the right time, for that matter.

Halfway up the stairs to her floor, he had finally made up his mind to ask if he could come inside for a few minutes so they could talk when Rey suddenly stopped mid-step.

"Shoot, I forgot to grab my mail," she said, turning around.

"Want me to get it?" said Luke. He was still trying to figure out how he could ask to come inside without sounding overly suggestive, anyway.

"Sure." She dug through her purse and pulled out a small key. "It's 3C."

"Got it."

He had just reached the mailboxes near the front door when he heard Rey shriek at the top of the stairs.

"Rey?" he called, bounding back up the steps. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"It's _back_!" she squealed. "They brought it back! My violin!"

Luke slowed his pace, relief flooding through him. Perhaps his threats of going to the police had actually gotten through to Ben? But no...he wasn't sure he could believe that. It was too easy.

"Rey?" he said, quickening his step again. "Don't open it yet, okay? I just want to—"

He was cut off by another scream, but this time it wasn't one of excitement—it was horror.

"Rey!"

He took the last flight of stairs two at a time. At the top, he found Rey sitting against the wall opposite her door, both hands clamped over her mouth and tears already streaming down her face. In front of the door lay her violin case, open, and inside was her grandfather's violin.

Smashed into a thousand pieces.

Luke swore and closed the case, then sat down on the floor next to Rey and pulled her into his arms. Tears still poured down her cheeks, but she was silent and still—probably in shock. He held her for a moment longer, then pulled back so he could look her in the eyes.

"I need you to go inside and pack a bag," he said, carefully wiping the tears from her face. "Whoever did this knows where you live, so I can't let you stay here. I'm going to bring you back home with me until this is all over. Okay?"

Rey nodded numbly. He helped her to her feet and gently moved the violin case out of the way so she could open the door. She hesitated, her eyes following the case as he set it down a few feet away.

"Inside, Rey," he said. "Please. I'll wait out here."

She unlocked the door and went inside, and Luke fought the urge to put his fist through the wall. There was no longer any doubt in his mind who had done this.

And he wasn't going to let Ben get away with it anymore.


	12. Chapter 12

At Luke's insistence, they stopped at the police station on the way back to his apartment to hand over the violin as evidence. It broke Rey's heart to let it go—even shattered and useless, it was still a part of her. She only relented when Officer Rook assured her it would be returned as soon as they were finished with it.

Luke gave them Ben's name, and Rook asked Rey if she had any particular reason to suspect him. With a quick glance at Luke, she told him how Ben had threatened her after rehearsal when he found out she was entering the competition. Luke reached over and grasped her hand as Rook wrote the information down.

They rode back to Luke's apartment in silence, Rey clutching her bag while Luke held his father's violin case. When they arrived a few minutes later, Rey hesitated outside after Luke had unlocked the door, thinking of the last time she had stood in this hallway.

"I really need to visit you sometime under more pleasant circumstances," she said, attempting a smile. "Pretty soon just the sight of your apartment is going to make me depressed."

Luke gave her a smile back, but it looked just as half-hearted as hers undoubtedly had.

"I'd hate for that to happen," he said.

He held the door open for her and she came inside. With everything that had happened the last time she was here, she had never really taken the time to look around. The small, open kitchen to the right of the door looked out over the living room, which was neat and comfortably furnished. Bookshelves lined the wall by the fireplace, and the adjacent wall was mostly windows. The furniture was simple but tasteful, and—she blushed as her eyes intentionally skipped over the couch—a small stack of books and a carefully positioned lamp seemed to mark Luke's favorite reading chair.

"I wish I had a proper guest bedroom for you," said Luke as he closed the door. "As it is your options are the couch or—"

"Could I stay in your room?" she said. "I mean...if that's all right."

"Sure, no problem," he said. "I don't mind crashing on the couch for a few nights."

"You don't have to do that," she said, coloring slightly as she realized how easily he could misinterpret what she was trying to say. "I'm not...I'm not asking for anything. Not like that. I just...don't really want to be alone. Just for tonight."

He softened noticeably. "I can understand that," he said. "As long as it's not going to make you uncomfortable, it's fine with me."

 _As if anything about Luke could ever make me uncomfortable._

"Thank you."

Rey used Luke's bathroom to change and brush her teeth while he used the one in the hall. In her rush to pack, she'd forgotten to grab her toothbrush, but thankfully Luke had kept the one she had used last time she was here. It gave her a strange, fluttery feeling in her stomach to see it sitting there in the container next to his—it was so intimate, so familiar, that for a moment it made her think…

But no. _Most likely he just forgot to throw it away._

Luke was already back in the room by the time she came out, sitting in bed with a book in his lap. He was wearing a faded black T-shirt, the first time Rey had ever seen him in short sleeves. Just looking at the muscle definition in his arms made her seriously question her motivation for asking him to stay with her. She tugged self-consciously at the hem of her shorts.

He smiled when he saw her. He seemed to sense that she didn't want to talk about Ben or the violin yet—he hadn't brought it up once since they left the police station, and she was grateful.

"I dug this up for you," he said, holding the book out toward her.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and took it from him. The black cover was well-worn, with _Testimony: The Memoirs of Dmitri Shostakovich_ printed in silver across the top.

"It's one of my favorites," said Luke, "even if I'm not quite as much of an obsessive fan as you are. I was surprised you'd never read it."

"I'd never even heard of it," she said, glancing at the back cover. "But I'll definitely read it now. Thank you."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them as the inevitable next step sank in. Sitting on the edge of the bed was one thing—climbing in next to him was very much another. As usual, Luke seemed to pick up on what she was feeling almost as soon as she noticed it herself.

"I'm going to go grab a glass of water," he said, pulling back the covers. "Did you want anything?"

She shook her head.

"Be right back—feel free to turn the light off if you're ready to go to sleep. I know my way around here pretty well in the dark."

Rey got in bed as soon as he left the room, switching off the light and pulling the covers up to her chin. She felt, rather than heard, him return a few minutes later—he hardly made a sound, but the mattress moved beneath her as he climbed in.

She rolled over on her side, facing away from him, and tried to go to sleep. But as tired as she was, her thoughts were still racing, and the image of her shattered violin kept flashing in front of her tightly closed eyes.

She did her best to hold herself together; she really did. But thinking about her last tangible connection to her grandfather lying in a hundred pieces in the back room of a police station was more than she could take. The tears she could hide, but it was impossible to disguise the way her body shook with the sobs.

"Rey?"

Luke laid his hand tentatively on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she choked out, frustrated with herself. "It was just a stupid instrument. I shouldn't be this upset."

"It was much more than just an instrument to you, Rey," he said. "And you don't _ever_ have to apologize for the way you're feeling. Not to me."

That pushed her over the edge. She rolled over, moving closer to him and burying her face in his chest. He didn't say a word—just wrapped his arms around her and let her cry herself to sleep.

* * *

Luke awoke to an empty bed. It wasn't unusual in itself—in fact, it wouldn't have seemed strange at all if it weren't for the lingering warmth in the sheets next to him and the faint, sweet smell of Rey's hair on the other half of his pillow.

He sat up, but his growing panic was averted by the sight of the closed bathroom door and the sound of the shower running inside. He climbed out of bed, grabbed some pants and a shirt from the dresser, and headed to the other bathroom to change. It took some creativity to make himself presentable, since most of his things were in the master bathroom. He ran a wet comb through his hair and washed his face, then swished a mouthful of Listerine in place of brushing his teeth. Twice.

Just in case.

When he got back to his room Rey was sitting on his side of the bed, staring down at something on his nightstand.

"You must miss her," she said quietly. "Mara Jade."

He realized then what she was looking at—it was a picture of the two of them together, taken on their honeymoon in northern California twenty-six years ago. He wished he had put it away before Rey came in here—it was probably long past time, anyway.

She seemed to sense the question that was forming on his lips.

"I read an article online," she said. "About the accident, and how you left the Chicago Symphony after it happened. It said that you had just celebrated your fourth wedding anniversary."

Luke came over and sat down beside her.

"What the article failed to mention," he said, "was that we spent that anniversary in different states, because I was so caught up in my impressive new job that I couldn't be bothered to come home...or even remember it, for that matter."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "It was on a Wednesday. I was on a nationwide tour with the orchestra, promoting the new season and premiering some new pieces—I'd been gone for over a month. She called me that night and asked if I could come home for a day over the weekend, since I was in Minneapolis and only a few hours away. There were no concerts scheduled. I could have done it, easily—but I didn't.

"I've asked myself _why_ a hundred times over the years—why I didn't just go, buy a plane ticket, rent a car, take a bus. It wasn't that I didn't want to see her, because I did. I missed her. I _loved_ her. But the truth is I was enjoying myself far too much on that tour. I loved being treated like a celebrity everywhere I went, being praised and lauded as a genius, and I wasn't ready to give that up yet, not even for a day. So I told her I was busy, and that I would see her in two more weeks when the tour was over.

"She never told me she was coming. She must have meant it to be a surprise. I didn't even remember it had been our anniversary until after—" His voice broke, and he felt Rey shift toward him and lay her hand on his back.

"I gave them my resignation the next day," he went on. "I promised myself that from that moment on I would invest my time and talents in _people_ , not in pursuing some prestigious career that only pulled me away from what really mattered. That's when I moved here and started the community orchestra, with some private music and conducting students on the side. I could barely pay my rent for the first five years, but I didn't care, because I could _see_ the difference I was making in people's lives.

He paused, looking over at Rey. "I also swore I would never let myself get too close to anyone ever again," he said. "I would care for my students, of course, as a mentor and a friend, but romantic relationships were out of the question. I couldn't risk hurting someone like that again...or getting hurt myself."

Rey rubbed her hand over his back. "'To love at all is to be vulnerable,'" she quoted softly.

"C.S. Lewis," he said, giving her a small smile. "Wise man."

She nodded. "But I understand," she said. "I really do. I don't blame you for not wanting to put yourself through something like that again...and I know no one will ever be able to replace what you've lost."

She looked back down at the photograph, and the expression on her face broke Luke's heart. It was like she studying Mara, comparing herself with her somehow...and not favorably.

"I don't think you do understand, Rey," he said, taking her hand. "It's true I made that promise to myself—and I've kept it, all these years. But all of that changed when I met you."

Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to say something, but Luke pressed on, needing to finish.

"It was easy enough at first—I felt like a foolish schoolboy with a crush, but at least I knew you would never feel the same way about me. I couldn't possibly hurt you if you didn't care about me, and since I had no expectations I would never be disappointed.

"But the more time I spent with you, the harder it was not to tell you how I felt. And that morning when you were here, when you...well, it became obvious that I wasn't the only one feeling something. A part of me started to panic, to pull away. I had to stick to that promise, and let you go, because—and I know this doesn't make any sense—I couldn't stand the idea of losing you."

Luke sighed. "But I can't do it. I can't let you go. Because I'm finally starting to understand—and I think Lewis would agree with me—that love is very much worth the risk."

He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it tenderly.

"I love you, Rey."

She stared at him for a moment, eyes still wide, lips parted as if to speak. Then slowly, she slid her hand from his grip and held it to his cheek, threading her fingers into his hair.

"I love you, too," she said.

Luke couldn't describe the feeling that coursed through him at the sound of those words. He wanted to laugh, shout, jump up and down on the bed like a child, pull her into his arms and never let go. Instead, he just grinned.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered.

She grinned back, her eyes sparkling.

"I was just going to ask you the same thing," she said.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her toward him, cradling the back of her head in his other hand, and pressed his lips to hers. She sighed against his mouth and raked her fingers through his hair, sending chills through his scalp and all the way down his spine.

He had already half-convinced himself he was dreaming as he guided her down onto his pillow, her tongue teasing at his lower lip. Coconut and wintergreen.

 _Please,_ please _don't let me wake up._

He placed a row of kisses along the underside of her jaw, taking pleasure in every tiny gasp that escaped her lips. He could feel her toying with the hem of his shirt, and his breath caught when her fingers found the bare skin underneath.

"Does this mean I don't have to go back to sleeping on the couch?" she whispered in his ear, the warmth of her breath making him shiver.

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. "You should know by now that I never _really_ wanted you to sleep on the couch in the first place," he said.

And he kissed her again.


	13. Chapter 13

"Well? What happened?"

"They took it to the police."

" _Of course_ they took it to the police—I told you Skywalker is too much of a coward to handle anything himself."

"You're sure you didn't leave anything that would let them trace it back to us, right?"

"Give me some credit, Hux—it's clean. My uncle can accuse me as much as he wants, but they're never going to be able to _prove_ anything."

"Maybe so, but...look, Kylo, are you sure we didn't take this too far? I mean, that thing was obviously worth—"

"What's _obvious_ is that you understand _nothing_. Benjamin Kenobi destroyed my grandfather's chance at a career, and I refuse to let his granddaughter do the same to me. Too far? No. We haven't taken this far _enough_."

"You won't have much of a career in prison, either, if they catch—"

Ben ended the call and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

 _Let Hux back out if he wants to—you don't need him._ _You don't need anyone._

He could take care of Rey Kenobi all on his own.

* * *

"So...are we, you know...official now? A couple?"

Luke propped himself up on one elbow, running the fingers of his other hand down the side of Rey's face and onto her neck.

"Do you want us to be?" he asked.

"Yes."

He smiled. "Then we are."

She snuggled up closer to him, savoring the warmth they shared and wishing she never had to move.

"I can't promise it will always be easy," said Luke. "We'll undoubtedly attract a few raised eyebrows, and most people will probably assume at first glance that I'm your father."

"They can assume whatever they want," she said. "It will just make it all the more entertaining to see their reaction when I do _this_."

She slid both her hands into the hair at the base of his neck and leaned in to kiss him firmly, feeling his lips curve into a smile. After a moment, he pulled back.

"As much as I'm enjoying where this is going," he said, "there _are_ a few things we should probably talk about."

Rey sighed and sat up reluctantly. "Ben?" she said.

Luke nodded. "I wish you would have told me sooner that he'd threatened you," he said. "We might have been able to prevent some of this."

"I know," she said. "I should have come to you, but I...I didn't want to seem weak. Like I was giving in to his threats."

" _Weak_ is the last word I would ever use to describe you, sweetheart," said Luke. "But being strong doesn't mean never asking for help, either. I _want_ to help you, Rey, to support you. That's what a boyfriend is for."

 _Boyfriend_. She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face in spite of the serious conversation.

Luke raised an eyebrow. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said. "I just like the sound of that, is all. Of you being my boyfriend."

"Not half as much as I like the sound of you being my girlfriend."

He pulled her back down toward him and kissed the top of her head.

"We're in this together now, Rey," he said. "You don't have to carry all of this on your own anymore."

She liked the sound of that, too.

* * *

Rey stayed with Luke through the weekend and into the next week. He insisted on dropping her off at work each day and picking her up at the end of her shift, despite her protests. They spent the evenings curled up on the couch or in Luke's bed, reading, talking, and dreaming—anything Luke could think of to keep her mind off Ben and the concerto competition. By Monday night Rey was halfway through the book on Shostakovich he had given her, which was impressive given the fact that she typically stopped every few pages to ask him a question or make some comment on the section she'd just read.

She had just started to ask him another question when her phone rang. She grabbed it off the end table, frowning at the number before bringing it up to her ear.

"Hello?" she said.

Luke watched as her expression shifted from confusion to surprise to wide-eyed shock, all in a matter of seconds.

"What is it?" he asked as soon as she had thanked the caller and hung up. "What happened?"

Rey turned slowly and stared at him, still holding her phone in front of her.

"I won," she said. "The concerto competition. I _won_."

A grin spread across his face. "You won?"

She nodded.

Luke let out of a shout of excitement and grabbed her around the waist, picking her up and spinning her in circles around the room. She squealed and clung to his neck as her feet flew off the ground. He leaned in to try to kiss her, but lost track of where they were standing in the process—one foot caught on the leg of the coffee table and they fell back onto the couch in a heap, laughing breathlessly.

"I knew you could do it," he said a moment later when they'd recovered their breath. He pulled her up closer until she was lying on top of him. "I can't even begin to tell you how proud I am."

Rey smiled and kissed him softly. "I think that means even more to me than winning in the first place," she said. "But…" Her smile faded. "Ben is going to be furious."

"Don't worry about Ben," said Luke, wrapping his arms tightly around her. "I won't let him hurt you again."

"The police still haven't found him?"

"Not that I've heard. I think Leia has been calling the station every day to check."

"This must be hard on her, too," said Rey.

"It is, though she would never show it," said Luke. "I know it hurts her, but I don't think she's all that surprised by it. Ben has always been...a challenge."

"You told me once that he had a difficult childhood?"

Luke shrugged. "Maybe difficult isn't the right word," he said, "but it was definitely unique. Han and Leia love him, there's no doubt of that, and they did their best bringing him up. They love each other, too, but...well, you've met Leia. Han's personality is every bit as strong, and they certainly had their rough periods.

"Maybe it was for that reason that Ben spent a lot of time with his grandfather during his teenage years, despite Leia's attempts to discourage it. He idolized our father, and as a result picked up some of the bitterness he held toward your grandfather. Ben felt Kenobi had robbed his grandfather of the career he deserved."

"Which explains why he hates me so much," said Rey. "It's vengeance. His family against mine."

"That, and I think he's afraid history will repeat itself and you'll overshadow his career—not that he would ever admit that, of course."

Rey fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. "How far do you think he'll take this?" she asked. "Would he do something to sabotage the performance?"

"I don't know." Luke kissed her forehead gently. "But I have an idea that might make it harder for him to try."


	14. Chapter 14

After he dropped Rey off at work on Tuesday morning, Luke stopped by Han and Leia's brownstone, hoping to talk to Leia. She opened the door when he knocked, holding one finger in the air and pressing her phone to her ear with her other hand.

"Look," she said, waving Luke inside, "if you're really having this much trouble finding him I might as well start looking myself. At least I—well, _of course_ he's dangerous, you think I don't know my own son? Believe me, I'm not afraid of—"

She paused, rolling her eyes as the caller interrupted her again.  
"Fine," she said eventually. "If you don't find him by the end of today, I start looking tomorrow."

She hung up with an exasperated sigh and shoved the phone in her pants pocket. "Sorry about that," she said to Luke. "They're not making a bit of progress finding Ben, and it's driving me crazy to sit here doing nothing. I love my son, but if he's responsible for this, then prison is the best place for him—he'd be safer there than if I got my hands on him, anyway. And they try to tell me _he's_ dangerous…"

"I suppose I don't need to ask how things are going, then," said Luke, grimacing. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Just keep looking after Rey," said Leia. "I'm used to Ben—she's not. I worry about her more than anything in all this."

"Speaking of Rey…" Luke began.

"The competition! Of course! Give her my congratulations—I'm sorry I never responded to your text last night." She cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes at him. "Wait a second...there's something else, isn't there? Are you two finally…?"  
Luke couldn't help the smile that crept over his face. "Yes."

Leia let out the closest thing to a girlish squeal that Luke had heard her make in years. She pulled him into a hug, then immediately stepped back and smacked him in the arm.

"Took you long enough," she said teasingly. "But I'm thrilled for you both, really. She's good for you, Luke. And I think you're good for her, too. Is she still staying with you?"

Luke nodded. "It's the safest place for her right now," he said. "I don't want to leave her alone until all of this is sorted out."

"Have you thought about the concerto concert? I mean, of course I hope this mess will be over by then, but if it's not...she'd be an easy target, up there on the stage."

"I do have an idea about that," said Luke. "Well, more of a plan, really, at this point—I'm hoping to have the details settled by this afternoon. I pulled a few strings and managed to get myself appointed as guest conductor for Rey's concerto. I'll be on stage with her the whole time."

"Oh, that's perfect," said Leia. "I'll feel better knowing she's not up there on her own...and I'm sure she will, too."

"I hope so."

Leia looked at him seriously, but after a moment broke into a grin.

"You're not still making her sleep on the couch, are you?" she said.

Luke was positive his face turned half a dozen shades of red.

"No, not anymore," he said quietly.

She laughed. "Good. Just...take good care of her, Luke. It's about time you both had a bit of happiness in your lives."

* * *

Luke and Rey arrived at rehearsal together that night, but made sure to leave some distance between them as they entered the room—they had agreed it might be best to keep their relationship a secret for the time being, at least until after the concerto concert.

Luke announced the competition results to a chorus of cheers and applause, but when Jessika practically pounced on her after rehearsal Rey could tell she had more than a simple congratulations on her mind.

"You're _glowing_ ," said Jessika. She nodded toward Luke. " _Both_ of you. And don't tell me he's just proud of you for winning—he's hardly taken his eyes off you all night."

Rey bit her lip. "Is it that obvious?"

"The violas missed two of their entrances because Luke was looking straight at _you_ when he cued them—grinning like an idiot the whole time, I might add. So yes, it's that obvious."

Rey rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling. "Okay, okay," she said. "We're officially a thing. Just don't tell anyone yet, all right? It's a long story, but I'm staying at his place for a few days and we don't really want it to be public knowledge right now."

Jessika's eyes grew huge. "Are you KIDDING me?" she squealed. "You're _living_ with—"

Rey clamped her hand over Jessika's mouth. "I said _don't_ tell the whole world, remember?" she hissed.

Jessika nodded fervently. As soon as Rey pulled her hand away she leaned in closer, her eyes still wide.

"Is he as gorgeous naked as I've always thought he would be?" she whispered. "Not that I think about it a lot. Just, you know, once or twice…"

She trailed off, and her face went pale. Rey nearly jumped out of her skin when someone behind her laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt," said Luke.

Rey turned around to find him smiling warmly.

"Could I speak to Rey for a moment?" he asked.

"Of—of course!" Jessika stuttered, color flooding back into her cheeks. She gave Rey a wink and then rushed off toward Rose. Rey had a feeling their secret wasn't going to stay one for much longer.

"How much of that did you hear?" Rey asked, turning back to Luke.

"A bit more than I would have liked," he said.

She wrinkled her nose. "Sorry. I wasn't encouraging her—she figured it out on her own, and...well, you heard the rest."

He chuckled. "No harm done. We wouldn't have been able to keep it a secret forever, anyway."

"So did you actually need to talk to me, or were you just saving me from further embarrassment?"

"Both," he said. "I just wanted to tell you I'll be ready to leave soon, but I need to return a call first."

A nervous flutter ran through her. "Is it something to do with Ben?"

"Kind of. But not really."

Rey raised an eyebrow inquiringly

"All right, I might as well tell you," he said. "I was hoping to keep it a secret awhile longer, but this doesn't seem to be a great day for secrets. The call was from the conductor of the New York Philharmonic...confirming my guest conductorship for your piece at the concerto concert."

" _What_?" Rey threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, not caring that everyone in the room was probably watching. "That's amazing! I didn't think you were even going to apply! What changed your mind?"

"You," he said quietly, reaching down and giving her hand a squeeze. "Anyway, I need to call him back to go over some details. You're welcome to come with me and wait in my office if you'd like."

"Actually, I think I might wait for you outside, if that's okay. Now that it's finally warm, some fresh air would be nice."

Luke hesitated, then nodded, squeezing her hand again.

"Okay," he said. "But stay right by the entrance. I'll be out as soon as I can."

Rey grabbed her things and headed outside. She stood just outside the door at first, leaning against the metal railing, but when everyone who passed by stopped to offer their congratulations she eventually moved down to the corner of the building, hoping for a few moments to herself.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy spending time with Luke. She loved every minute of being with him, even just sitting side by side on his couch and reading in silence. But so much had happened in the past few weeks—with Ben, with Luke, with _everything_ —and Rey had hardly had any time on her own to process it all.

She leaned back against the cool stone wall and closed her eyes, relishing the first hints of spring in the evening air. She could hear the chatter and laughter of the other orchestra members as they left for the night, discussing the music from rehearsal or their plans for the week.

 _Just a few more minutes_ , she told herself. _Just until everyone is gone. Then I'll go back over to wait for Luke._

She didn't mind his overprotectiveness, not really. After fending for herself for so long, it was nice to have someone who cared enough to look out for her. She was thrilled with the news of his guest conductorship, not just because she was relieved that he would be on stage alongside her, but because she was _so ridiculously_ _proud_ of him she barely knew how to express it. She couldn't wait to see him back in his element, back on the stage where he belonged.

The voices from the building entrance had quieted, and Rey knew Luke would likely be out to meet her soon. She knew she should get back—she didn't want him to worry if he came outside and couldn't find—

A hand clamped roughly over her mouth, forcing her head back against the wall and choking off the scream that was forming in her throat. She opened her eyes and saw Ben's face inches from her own, hatred etched into every line of his expression. He spun her around and dragged her into the alley, keeping one hand tightly over her mouth and the other around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides.

"I _warned_ you," he hissed in her ear. "I gave you a chance to back out, but you just couldn't take the hint, could you?"

Rey fought to free her arms—if only she had one hand free, she could reach up and grab him by the hair until he let her go—

Ben leaned in harder, using his body weight to push her face-first against the wall.

"You're more stubborn than I gave you credit for," he said. "I was sure losing your precious instrument would keep you out of the competition. I never expected my uncle to be so...generous. Especially when that violin has always been rightfully mine—my grandfather wanted _me_ to have it, to carry on the legacy that was stolen from him. For _you_ to use it for a performance like this…"

His grip tightened, long fingers digging into her cheek.

"Let's just say I can't allow that to happen."

He reached down with his other hand, and when he raised it again Rey caught the glint of steel out of the corner of her eye. She panicked.

Her legs were the only parts of her body free to move, so she lifted one foot and kicked backward as hard as she could in the limited space, her heel connecting with his shin. He grunted and shifted his position slightly, spreading his legs wider apart to keep them out of her way. The knife moved closer to her face.

Her next kick was higher, harder, and dead center.

Right on target.

Ben swore loudly and doubled over in pain, leaving Rey free to take off running toward the building entrance. She'd only just made it around the corner when his hand latched on to her ponytail, yanking her backward onto the ground. Stars exploded in front her eyes as her head cracked against the pavement.

When her vision cleared, Ben was kneeling over her, his face twisted with rage. He said something, but she couldn't make sense of the words, and the blade pressed into the skin above her collarbone made it impossible to focus on anything else. She tried to fight back, to push him away, but her arms and legs had forgotten how to move, pasted still and limp to the sidewalk like a child's doll.

 _Is this it, then?_ Rey thought, her mind turning slowly. _After all that's happened...this is how it ends?_

She blinked heavily, adrenaline alone keeping unconsciousness at bay. Just before she opened her eyes again, she heard a shout—a new voice, not Ben's—and the weight of his body peeled away from her in a single violent jerk. Sounds of fighting broke through the haze, and the relief she'd felt at being rescued shifted into something else. Fear? But not for herself. For…

"If she has so much as a _scratch_ , Ben, I swear…"

 _Luke_. She had to help him, to warn him—if he hadn't seen the knife—if he wasn't prepared…

"She'll have more than a scratch by the time I'm done with her," Ben snarled, "and so will you if you're determined to get in my way."

 _Move, legs. MOVE. You have to get up...he needs your help..._

"You'll have to kill me before you'll get _anywhere_ near her again."

Ben laughed, but it was cut short by a grunt and a sudden crunching noise.

 _Have to get up...have to help Luke…_

Rey could feel the life flowing slowly back into her limbs, creeping out to her fingers and toes. She twisted her upper body until she could turn over, pushing herself up on the heels of her hands.

They were locked in an even fight when she looked up. Blood covered Ben's face where Luke had punched him, but he still clutched the knife in one hand. Luke had a tight grip on Ben's wrist, stretching his arm out to the side to keep the blade as far away from them both as possible.

She got to her feet, but her vision swam and the ground moved beneath her, pulling her back down. She tried to yell to Luke to be careful, to beg him to hold on until she could go for help, but the only words that came out of her mouth were, " _Luke, please"_ in a strangled half-sob.

That alone seemed to be enough to spur him on. He lifted one foot and hooked it behind Ben's knee, jerking it forward to knock him off balance. As Ben stumbled toward him, Luke leaned back and delivered a crushing left hook to the side of his head, sending him sprawling. He hit the ground hard, the knife clattering out of his hand, and lay motionless on the concrete.

Luke was at Rey's side an instant later. He held her face in both hands, still breathing heavily.

"Are you all right?" he asked, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks. "Did he hurt you?"

She couldn't speak, could barely breathe. She was so overwhelmed with relief that he was _here_ , that he was _safe_ and _whole_ in front of her, that all she could do was slide her arms around his neck and hold on. She felt him relax at her touch, pulling her closer with a quiet sigh and pressing a gentle kiss to her head.

Her eyes were closed, but she should have heard him coming. She should have known somehow, should have expected it, should have pulled Luke away and kept him safe.

But by the time she felt him gasp and stiffen, it was too late. By the time she opened her eyes and saw Ben's face glaring down at her, half-crazed and dripping blood, the knife was already buried in Luke's back. When she let go of him, Luke's eyes were wide and staring, drinking her in as if he knew it would be the last time he would see her.

And when she finally found her voice, it came out as a scream.


	15. Chapter 15

Leia had just settled down on the couch with a book when her phone buzzed on the end table. She picked it up, smiling when she saw her brother's name on the screen.

"Luke!" she said. "I would have thought you'd have better things to do with your evening than—"

"Leia?" came a frantic female voice on the other end. "It's Rey. Are you at the hospital?"

"No, I'm at home," said Leia, her curiosity changing to concern. "What's wro—"

"Get there as quick as you can. It's Luke, he's—no, please, I have to stay with him, he's my—no, but— _please_ , you can't—"

"Rey? What's going on? What happened to Luke?"

"Ben was waiting outside rehearsal with a knife," said Rey breathlessly. "He was after me, but Luke fought him off, and then he—I am _not_ leaving him—they're telling me I can't ride in the ambulance with him—don't you _dare_ —"

"Rey, hand the phone to the EMT."

Leia waited a moment, already grabbing her purse and shoes, until she heard a male voice come on the line.

"Who is this?"

"This is Doctor Leia Organa Solo, and that's my brother you've got in that ambulance. I don't care what your protocol is, he _needs_ her in there with him. Make whatever exceptions you have to; I'll take full responsibility later. Just get him to the hospital _now_ and I'll meet you there."

She hung up before he could reply, pulling on her shoes with one hand and shoving her phone into her purse with the other. When she looked up, Han was already standing at the door, car keys in hand.

"I'll drive," he said. "You can fill me in on the way."

Leia felt a rush of gratefulness for her husband as he led her out to the car—they had certainly had their issues, but he was always there when it really counted.

 _Please, please let Luke be all right._

* * *

Rey didn't let go of Luke's hand until they arrived at the hospital ten minutes later, and even then one of the paramedics had to forcibly drag her away from him. She caught snatches of the discussion as they wheeled him inside—words like _blood loss_ and _critical_ and _arterial damage_ —and then he was gone, swallowed up by a pair of automatic double doors and a cold, unbearable silence. She stood there staring after him until someone brushed past her.

"Rey, honey," said Leia, skidding to a stop when she realized it was her. "Is he—?

Rey pointed at the doors, and Leia took off again, yelling " _Han, look after her!"_ over her shoulder as she ran.

"Looks like it's just you and me in the waiting party, kid," said a deep voice beside Rey. "I'm Han, Leia's husband. Are you— _oh, kid._ "

She followed his eyes down to the front of her shirt, which was soaked in blood. Her hands, too, were covered in it, dried and crusted under her fingernails.

"It isn't mine," she said, staring down at her shaking hands. "I tried to stop the bleeding, but I couldn't…"

Han put a hand awkwardly on her shoulder. "Come on, let's find someone to get you cleaned up."

They found a nurse who cleaned Rey's hands and arms and examined her for any injuries, despite her insistence that she'd already been checked at the scene. She gave Rey an ice pack for her head ("Mild concussion. Shouldn't be a problem, but come back if any symptoms return.") and a prescription for pain meds, then Han took her back out to the waiting room.

Neither of them spoke, but she found his presence reassuring. It didn't make her worry any less, but knowing that Han was probably just as worried as she was made the weight easier to bear, like it was a load they were sharing between them. Leia came back out after a few minutes and said they were taking Luke into surgery, then disappeared again before Rey could ask any questions.

"He's come through worse than this, you know," said Han beside her.

Rey sat back in her chair, the vinyl seat sticking to the backs of her legs. "Yeah?"

Han nodded. "Kid's tougher than he looks. And knowing he's got you waiting for him can't hurt."

She gave him a small smile. "Thank you," she said. "Do you call everyone _kid_?"

"Just the ones I like," he said. "Except Leia—to me she's always been _princess_."

"I'm guessing that doesn't go over well."

He chuckled. "Oh, she _hates_ it."

* * *

Leia hit the button to open the automatic doors with her elbow, smoothing the hair away from her face with her other hand. She'd only been here a few hours, but it felt like she'd just pulled a 24-hour shift.

She made her way out to the waiting room where Han and Rey still sat, smiling when she saw them. Rey had fallen asleep with her head on Han's shoulder, making him look distinctly uncomfortable.

"Hey," she said quietly.

He looked up, and the movement woke Rey, who immediately jumped to her feet when she saw Leia.

"Is he okay?" she gasped. "How—"

"He's in recovery," said Leia. "Everything went well—they were able to repair the torn artery just in time. We won't know anything for certain until he wakes up, but…" She smiled. "It looks like he's going to be fine."

Rey looked ready to burst into tears of relief. "Can I see him?" she asked.

"Why don't you go home and change first?" Leia suggested. "Han will bring you back, and Luke should be ready for some visitors by then."

Rey started to protest, but Leia held up her hand.

"Sweetheart, if the first thing Luke sees when he wakes up is you covered in blood, it might do him in. He's had enough trauma for one day." She reached over and gave Rey's hand a gentle squeeze. "Go home. I'll stay with him until you get back."

* * *

A little over an hour later Rey arrived back at the hospital with Han, wearing a fresh change of clothes and more anxious than ever to see Luke. When Leia brought her to his room she had to hold back tears—both from the relief of knowing he was alive and the realization of just how close it had been.

"He may not wake up for a while yet," said Leia, "but I'll leave you two alone anyway. I've had my fair share of time with him."

She gave Rey a hug and went with Han back out toward the waiting area. Rey pulled a chair over as close to the bed as she could get it, sitting down next to Luke with her legs crossed. His eyes were closed, and she hated the look of the half dozen tubes and wires criss-crossed over the bed, connecting him to the IV and various pieces of equipment. But she could see the steady rise and fall of his chest, follow the rhythm of his heartbeat on the monitor beside her. She repeated Leia's words to herself over and over, clinging to the hope they gave her.

 _It looks like he's going to be fine._

Rey pulled her phone out of her purse along with a pair of earbuds, scanning through her music playlist until she found what she was looking for.

"You promised you were going to introduce me to Martinu sometime, remember?" she said, plugging in the earbuds and untangling the cord. "Well, now's as good a time as any. I just downloaded them on my way here, see? _Bohuslav Martinu: The Complete Symphonies._ Should we start with number one?"

She put one earbud in her left ear. With a quick glance to make sure there wasn't a nurse nearby, she crawled into the empty space beside Luke on the bed, careful not to disturb the IV, and slipped the other earbud into his right ear. Then she pressed play and settled in, her head resting lightly against his shoulder. As the music swelled, Rey watched the gentle motion of his chest.

Grateful for every breath.

Halfway through the 3rd Symphony, Rey was nearly asleep, her fingers curled around Luke's forearm. She could feel herself slipping into a dream, a twisted, confusing vision colored by the tone of the music…

" 'Stooslow."

Rey jerked upright, yanking the earbud out of her ear.

"What?"

Luke's eyes were still closed, but a faint smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "The 2nd movement," he said drowsily. "Way too slow. What kind of hack is conducting this, anyway?"

She glanced down at her phone. "Since when is Leonard Bernstein a hack?"

"Hmm…" He pursed his lips. "I guess nobody's perfect."

He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, looking around the room in confusion.

"I'm in the hospital," he said finally.

She nodded and leaned down closer to him. She'd never been so happy to see those beautiful blue eyes.

"Ben, he—" She swallowed. "He stabbed you while your back was turned. They had to do surgery to repair an artery, but Leia said everything went well."

"But you're okay?" he asked. "He didn't hurt you?"

"I'm okay." _I am now, anyway._

She lay down next to him again, their fingers intertwined. "I thought I was going to lose you," she said quietly.

"But you didn't." He tightened his grip on her hand. "Do you know what scared me the most back there, when I realized what had happened? Thinking I would never get another chance to tell you how much I love you."

"You can tell me now."

"Do we have enough time?" he said. "It could take hours."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Well, let _me_ just say that I love both of you, even when you're acting like disgustingly lovesick teenagers."

Rey jumped up, almost falling out of the bed, but Luke only chuckled.

"Hey, sis," he said.

"I wasn't spying, honestly," said Leia, coming over to them from her position by the doorway. "The only way I could get the nurses to give you a little privacy was by promising to come check on you myself every once in a while. Last time I peeked in you were both out cold." She smirked. "This time was _far_ more entertaining."

She went briefly into doctor mode, looking over his vital readouts and asking how he was feeling. When everything checked out okay, Luke asked what had happened to Ben after the attack.

"I just got the call," said Leia. "He's in custody. They already had a patrol car in the area, in case he tried something like this. It's just unfortunate they didn't get there a few minutes earlier."

Luke reached over and grabbed Leia's hand. "How are _you_ feeling?" he said.

She smiled sadly. "I'll get there," she said. "I realized a long time ago that there wasn't anything more I could do to help Ben. I had to let him go his own way, and face the consequences. At this point I'm just grateful things didn't turn out any worse than they did."

Rey brought Luke's hand up to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

"So am I."


	16. Chapter 16

Rey took a cautious step forward, the gold sequins on her dress sparkling in the spotlight. She had Leia to thank for that—Rey would have been content to wear the black, knee-length dress she'd worn for performances in college, but Leia had insisted on something more dramatic, even taking her out shopping herself the weekend before the performance. The dress was bright, showy, and ridiculously overpriced, but as soon as she'd walked out of the dressing room wearing it Leia had declared it _perfection_ and handed her credit card to the clerk.

Rey closed her eyes, focusing on calming her breathing as the applause quieted. She lifted her violin slowly to her shoulder, letting the familiar warmth of the spotlight settle over her skin, and set the bow to the strings.

The first note rang out through the enormous hall, smooth as glass. As the orchestra began playing underneath her, she opened her eyes to glance down at the front row out of habit, looking for—

She froze mid-bow stroke, panic seizing at her chest as she took in the line of unfamiliar faces. Behind her the orchestra stuttered to a halt, a few stray cello notes leaking out past the cutoff. Her ears were ringing, heart pounding deafeningly in the now silent hall.

 _Not again. Not again. Not ag_ —

"Rey?"

His gentle whisper cut through the ringing in her ears, flooding her chest with warmth. She looked up and saw him exactly where he knew he would be, exactly where he belonged.

Right beside her.

Luke smiled reassuringly. "From the beginning?" he said.

Rey nodded, taking a deep breath and returning his smile. Luke raised his baton and watched her carefully, ready to cue the orchestra as soon as she began.

This time she didn't think. She let her fingers find the music, carried by the swell of the orchestra beneath her and the knowledge that Luke would be with her every step of the way.

He could have died. He came so close…

But he didn't. He was alive, and he was _here._

The music took shape in her mind, the words bubbling up from somewhere deep within her and melting into the rhythms as she played.

 _He's here._

 _He's here._

 _He's here._

Rey let herself get lost in the flow of it, in the passion and the joy and the melody, until she could almost believe she was somehow outside of herself, watching from a distance. She saw the steady motion of Luke's baton—the ceaseless pulse that let her bow dance in the empty spaces, notes flitting around and in between each vibrant heartbeat. She saw the smile on her own face. Then she closed her eyes, and simply _listened._

 _He's here_.

And it was beautiful.

* * *

Luke glanced over at Rey as he conducted the introduction to the 2nd movement. After her slight false start, her nerves seemed to be settling down—she was playing exquisitely.

He couldn't help but think back to the night they'd first met, when she had played this very movement for him in his office. He had known from that moment that she was something special, but he never could have imagined everything that had happened in the few short months since. She had changed his life in so many ways, and every one of them felt like a miracle—even the fact that he was standing here now.

It had been against Leia's professional advice, but very much in line with her _personal_ advice, for him to go ahead with conducting the performance. He could feel the stitches tugging at the skin of his back whenever he made a particularly dramatic gesture, but it was worth it. He would have conducted this from a wheelchair if he'd had to.

Luke smiled as Rey started to play, her warm, sweet tone floating across the stage and out into the audience. His hand brushed against the small, hard shape in his jacket pocket, and a flutter of nervous excitement that had nothing to do with music ran through him.

* * *

Rey held the last note until she ran out of bow. It felt like she'd been holding her breath, too—she exhaled slowly as silence fell over the hall, then carefully lowered her instrument…

And the room exploded into applause.

She blinked, startled out of the dream world she'd been in while she was playing. The lights rose over the auditorium, revealing row after row of people on their feet, but Luke's smile as he stepped off the podium toward her meant more than any of their cheers. He reached out and shook her hand, then pulled her into a quick hug.

"Your grandfather would be so proud," he whispered in her ear. "And so am I."

Rey fought unsuccessfully to hold back tears as he pulled away, gesturing toward her and drawing more praise from the already enthusiastic crowd. She took a reluctant bow, and by the time she stood up Luke was right beside her again.

"May I?" he said quietly, touching one finger to the neck of her violin.

She gave him a questioning look, but handed the instrument over to him—it _was_ his, after all. She grew even more confused when he passed it to the the concertmistress, who took it from him with a wink. What was he—

Her breath caught as he moved in front of her and lowered himself to one knee.

* * *

The look of absolute shock on Rey's face made Luke's stomach turn. Was that _good_ shock? Was she pleased...or just horrified? He was second-guessing his decision to do this so publicly. But there was no turning back now.

Ignoring the gasps and whistles from the audience, he focused on Rey's face and reached into his pocket. Her eyes teared up—good tears?—as he pulled out the black velvet box and held it up in front of her.

"Rey," he said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt, "the last few months have been anything but easy. But they've also been some of the best I've ever had...all because of you. You've become such an important part of my life that I can't imagine living the rest of it without you."

He took a deep breath and opened the box, revealing the delicate rose gold ring he'd chosen—with Leia's help—the week before.

"Will you marry me?"

Tears were pouring down Rey's cheeks now, but her smile lit up the stage, brighter than any spotlight. He'd barely gotten the full sentence out before she threw her arms around his neck and held on so tightly that they both nearly fell over. Luke laughed and pulled her close, cupping one hand around the back of her head.

"Is that a yes?" he asked.

"That is _definitely_ a yes."

Luke pulled away slightly and reached for her hand. She nodded, beaming at him, and he pulled the ring from the box and slipped it gently onto her finger. It fit perfectly.

He leaned in to kiss her, but Rey pressed a finger to his lips, grinning.

"My turn," she said quietly.

She threaded her fingers into his hair and leaned forward, resting her forehead against his.

"Luke Skywalker, can I kiss you?" she asked.

"I would very much like it if you did," he said.

And so she did.


End file.
